Push Back
by 1angelette
Summary: From an RPG. Three years after the movie, Nick, Cassie, and Kira are still looking for Cassie’s mother, recruiting more Rogue Psychics, evading England’s Division, and encountering some peculiar neutrals.
1. March 1st

**(A/N: Welcome to Push Back, a fanfiction version of a Push RPG, which you can find on Livejournal under the very creative community name pushrpg. As such, this story is a collaborative effort, and 1angelette did not write it all by any means. I think you can attribute about 1000 of the first 20,000 words to me. That isn't very much. To find the other authors of this story and credit them, please visit the aforementioned community. There are many of us. None of us own **_Push_** to my knowledge, unless one of the directors or whatnot joined our RPG under a false name, but the original characters belong to the respective players who made them, which you can find by looking at the pushrpg community. Okay, that's enough. Off to DAY ONE!)**

------

Cassie could feel the penetrating wet cold of London, even through the heavy black jacket that covered her frame. It was a miserable day, even for this boggy country, and the normally bustling square was all but empty. Cassie sat outside one of the small cafes, taking an ocacssional sip of her coffee as she waited for the visions to come to her. She'd had one early that morning of that square, and of someone she could meet there. She hoped it was Nick - who had been gone for nearly a month - but she had not seen their face.  
Draining the last of her drink, she dropped some money on the table and scanned the square for anyone who looked like they might be the person in her vision...

This was turning out to be the dumbest thing Drake had ever signed up for. He had thought that being an exchange student to the UK would be more fun than going to Germany or France, but jeeze, these people were just as boring as the country he was from. His exchange family were all retards, and he hadn't seen another psychic for miles around. So... he might as well go find a girl he can Push into being his 'entertainment' for the night.  
Drake was clad in his black, thigh-length coat, with a gray undershirt, crossed over by a metal-studded belt in the typical American fashion. His pants were gray camo cargo-jeans, with black-and-white checkered Vans peeking out from beneath the large, parachute-like cargos.  
Drake took a drag on his cigarette, exhaling the smoke through his lips. Sure, it was a bad habit... but the stress Division has been putting him under was enough to make him resort to nicotine to help him take the edge off. They didn't bother him in person, but they were investigating him through his friends at school; hence, he became an exchange student. Even Division would have trouble operating in the United Kingdom. Extradition treaty or not, good luck getting a Pusher to go back to America!  
And then, he saw the girl. His green eyes looked at her... frail figure, but still. And the color in her hair... scene-ish, but nonetheless attractive. Turning his gaze away as to not be too forward, he ground his Marlboro 100 into the ashtray, and relaxed, the smoke calming him.

Kira was wandering, a thing she did out of habit. Running away had done that to her, made her unaware of things she normally did. She looked around, an old habit never dropped, and saw Cassie standing by herself. Yeah, Cassie didn't like her much, but it wasn't all that nice to stand by herself. She walked over to her younger friend.  
"Hey Cassie, why the sad face?"

Feeling eyes upon her, Cassie looked up to see a very...suspicious boy eyeing her. She knew she drew attention to herself - male attention was nothing new to her - but something in the way he looked at her made her skin crawl. Grabbing her bag at her feet, she instinctively reached for the pepper spray Nick insisted she keep in her pocket.  
Glancing up for a moment at the strange young man, she stepped around the small gate surrounding the cafe and out onto the cobblestone walkway. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Kira and smiled. She may not always be her favorite person, but anything was better than dark-boy-who-kinda-creeped-her-out-but-also-interested-her.  
"Hey, Kira." Cassie replied "I'm fine, it's just...that guy over there. There's something about him."

Drake overheard. Aww, damn it, she saw him. Oh well. Maybe now it would be best to direct his attention elsewhere.  
Drake opened the American newspaper he had been reading earlier. In it, they were talking about the recent conservative group that had been bashing psychics... nothing new there. Someone was always hating on them, perhaps out of jealousy, or out of fear. Turning the page, Drake saw another article talking about the new president. Again, nothing new... everyone seemed to like Barack Obama. Of course, what was he doing for the psychics? Nothing.  
Drake lit up another cigarette, and continued to read through the paper. He thought he had heard the two women talking about him, but it was best to ignore them. He had blown his cover.

Cassie only half-listened to Kira, her attention still on the mysterious boy. As she let her thoughts seriously focus, she felt the familiar prickling that signaled an oncoming vision, throwing her hands up to shield her eyes, she turned herself so Kira was blocking her from the view of the street, hoping no one would see her.

Drake was going to go over there and hit on her, but the impression he got... no. Why not Push her, he thought? But then again, he had promised his exchange sister he wouldn't use his powers for depravity, and only for things like getting into movies for free, free meals, and what have you.  
She was a nice girl. Very beautiful; in fact, she looked a lot like the girl he was just considering Pushing. They had flirted on occasion, only playfully of course... and somehow, she knew he was a Pusher, so she would catch him if he tried screwing with her mind. Shame it wasn't that easy.  
In fact, she was the only psychic he knew here. Both of her parents weren't, but Drake was sure that they appreciated him tricking the car dealer into giving them a 2009 model for a near-criminally cheap price. Heh... quid pro quo, of course.

Cassie hated confusing visions, and this was one of worst she'd had in a while. The images flashed wildly across her vision. Some included the boy, some didn't, but she knew they were all tied together and they were all centered around him.  
The vision ended and slowly her sight began to clear. The familiar pain of the migraines she got during particularly strong visions was beginning to form and she inwardly groaned. Leaning around Kira, she scanned the small crowd for the boy but found him turning away.

Drake stood up. It was getting to be around lunch time, and the last time he ate was around eight this morning. Drake turned and walked past a few chattering teen girls, and into a Burger King. He didn't have money, of course, but who needs money when you're a Pusher?  
The line was, thankfully, short. Drake approached the cashier, and his pupils spread through his entire eyes. **"I'd like a Chicken Tendercrisp meal, no lettuce, large fries. I've already paid you."** With his command, the cashier nodded, and smiled. Drake would receive his food in two minutes, and sit down, with the hanging television going over today's news. More Iraq bullshit, more terrorists... another day, another round of redundant bad news.

Now that Cassie wasn't completely focused, she only caught bits and pieces of her vision as she tried to track him. Finally, she saw the glowing sign of Burger King and slipped through the nearby alley that would take her there faster.  
Stepping into the tiny fast food restaurant, she scanned the tables for him. Finding him near the back, she slipped past the line and over to the eating area. Now in front of him, she reached over and plucked a French fry from his table.  
"Hi," she said cheerily.

He was just taking a bite out of his sandwich when the girl approached him. He barely noticed she took one of his fries as his attention was torn away from the TV. The same girl from before... he didn't remember pushing her into following him. What did she want, especially when she looked creeped out earlier?  
"Umm... hi." he said rather shyly, taking one of his own fries, and dipping it into the little ketchup cup he had taken before sitting down.

"I'm Cassie," she replied, sitting down in the seat across from him as she nibbled on the pilfered fry. He was a fairly good-looking guy - dark and kind of sinister in a fairly attractive way. But, her heart had belonged to Nick since that day he had Moved her out of the fish market to save her from the Pop Boys and she doubted that was going to change any time soon.  
Pushing away thoughts of Nick, she smirked and the boy and finished off the rest of the fry before adding. "And you're a Pusher."

He stopped eating as soon as she mentioned what he was. How did she know!? As he swallowed the bit of sandwich he had in his mouth, he wiped his mouth off with a napkin, and glared. "You're with Division, aren't you." he asked as a statement, his green eyes narrowing.

Cassie instinctively rolled her eyes and flipped her multi-colored hair over her shoulder.  
"Do I look like I'm with Division?" she asked as she stole another fry. "Believe me, the last thing I'm with is Division. Have you ever heard of the Rogues?" she asked, sincerely hoping her vision hadn't been wrong and he wouldn't push her to run into traffic the second he found out who she was.

Drake sighed as she answered. "You'd be surprised. This wouldn't have been the first time Division tried to get a young girl to spy on me." And then, she mentioned the Rogues. This piqued his interest.  
"So, you're the people that stole the Drug?" His eyebrows raised. "Didn't think I'd run into you guys here, though I've heard rumors you guys left the States."

"We move around, keeps Division on their toes." she replied, trying to give him as little information as possible while still keeping his interest. You never knew how far you could trust someone, even when you could see the future.  
"So, do you have a name? Or should I just continue to call you Dark Pusher Boy?"

"As funny as that name is... call me Drake." He took a sip of his Coke, and looked over Cassie's shoulder. The other woman wasn't with her, oddly enough. "And who are you?"

"Cassie Holmes," she replied, thankful he wasn't running off or screaming for Division - as some of the psychics she had met had done. While no one really liked Division, for some the idea of a rebellion was ludicrous and dangerous thinking.  
"So, what brings an American Pusher to London?"

"Division, actually. They're looking into my friends to try to get information on me, since I was rather... uncooperative with their 'messenger' the last time they tried to talk to me."  
He sighed, and continued. "I'm an exchange student. I signed up for learning abroad when I found out that home wasn't safe. Not that I'm afraid of them, I mean... I just don't like having people over my shoulder constantly."

"Try having them in front of you, with a gun in your face." Cassie replied, her thoughts drifting to their last run-in with Division two months ago. They'd lost two good people - one to a Mover who had sent them over a bridge, and another who'd been captured (thankfully, not before they could be Wiped).  
"You know, it might be easier to stay off Division's radar if you had some friends."

Drake shook his head. "No. I'm sorry, I can't help you guys... at least, not without my exchange sister." He couldn't help them. He was here as a student, not to fight some kind of war. "I'll help you if she does, though. She's... kinda important to me."  
He sighed, and finished his drink before eating the last bite of his sandwich. For a free meal, this wasn't bad. Who cares about calories... he had a very good metabolism. He'd probably burn them off just by walking to the subway station to go home.  
"You'll have to talk to her. She won't be hard to miss... she says she's a psychic too, but she hasn't used any of her powers around me, so I have absolutely no idea what kind she is... assuming she is one at all."

------

Taylor pulled her jacket off as she stepped into the small diner that was Divino's. She had discovered it when she had first left home 8 years ago. It was a warm, cozy place and she was a frequent customer since she moved back to London last year.  
Settling into her usual table in the back, she pulled out her blackberry and began to run through her e-mails and messages while she waited for Jason. Jason was probably the closest thing she had to a real friend. While he was undeniably cocky and selfish, he was an alright guy once you got to know him - if he let you.

Jason's eyes quickly scanned across the diner, the dark orbs coming to rest on the brunette sitting at 'their table' in the back. The jacket around his shoulders lost its form, returning to the newspaper that Jason had snatched up to cover himself with when he'd left his apartment. No one seemed to notice, but that wasn't something he worried about.  
He slowly manuevered his way between the tables and chairs, sliding into the seat opposite his 'friend'. The word didn't seem to totally fit their relationship, but it was the closest thing he could think of.  
Forgoing the pleasantries he grasped the menu, staring down at the multi-colored print. "So, what looks good today?"

"Ay, well you're a really friendly one yeah?" she replied, rolling her eyes. One thing Jason definitely lacked was manners.  
"Hello Taylor, how are you? Oh, I'm fine thanks," she continued to tease, levitating the menu a few inches absentmindedly. She was less obvious than shifting a jacket from a newspaper in the middle of a restaurant.

A small smirk graced Jason's lips as he continued where she left off, "Enjoying the weather? 'Oh no it's just awful, got my brand new jacket wet and everything.' Sounds pretty bad. 'Oh it is, this one was a gift from my mother.' So have you ordered yet? 'Nope, was waiting for you to get here, like always.' Ah alright, so..." His eyes locked with hers, the amusement obvious there, "What looks good today?"  
The smile remained on his face as he leaned forward, giving her a quick hug. "It's good to see you too, Taylor."

Taylor playfully pushed him off and rolled her eyes again.  
"Mary said to try the shepherd's pie," she replied, referring to their usual waitress. "It was never my favorite but it is alright here. So, how have you been? I haven't seen you for a while."

Shepherd's pie didn't really sound appetizing at all, and Jason made a mental note to chastise Mary about such a suggestion when she came to take their orders. His eyes scanned the menu quick, before deciding that a turkey sandwich sounded like a much better choice.  
"Well, you know me." Jason's eyes came back up to meet Taylor's, his face losing a little of its previous amusement as he gave a slight shrug, "Staying out of trouble, doing a little work on the side, whatever it takes to get me by." This of course was one of the lies that both he and Taylor knew very well. Jason hadn't worked a day in his life since he figured out how to shift paper into money; but this wasn't something he liked admitting.  
"What about you?" Switching the subject away from his recent exploits seemed like the best option; mostly cause he found it really boring. "Saved any new psychics lately? Prevented any ne'er-do-well's from wrecking your plans?"

"It's actually been pretty quiet on the Division front lately." she replied, pausing to take a sip of the water Mary had brought her earlier. "It makes me nervous, actually. Have you heard anything? Are they planning something? Watching anyone in particular?" No matter how hard she tried, Taylor could never fully leave her 'Rogue-mode' as everyone liked to call it.

The smile strengthened again as Jason laughed softly. "All I know is they aren't watching me, or the useless reformed rocks that keep showing up in pawnshops all over this town. And that's the part I care about." He reached in his pocket, pulling out a strip of tree bark that instantly shifted into brand new Rolex. He clasped it onto his wrist, checking the clock on the wall as he set it. "Never really did understand the attraction to these watches, felt they were just a little bit too gaudy."  
His eyes caught hers for a second, a mischievous flicker lighting his eyes. Then his attention moved around the diner, silent searching for Mary. "Let's see, I've been here for almost a minute now, so Mary should be showing up any second now."

"You know, one day those 'useless rocks' are going to shift back before you can get out of the store and then what will you do?" she replied, smiling despite herself. _Damn charming jerk,_ she thought inwardly.  
She was about to tease him about having a crush on 70-year-old Mary but before she could do that the sweet old lady showed up, Jason's usual drink already in her hands.  
"Hello, Jason dear. How are you?" she said as she set down the glass and pulled out her order pad. "What can I get for you?"

"I suppose then I'd blame it on someone else, and if that didn't work, I'd run like hell." He laughed, turning his attention to Mary as she appeared over them. "Ah well aren't you always a sight for sore eyes." He grinned, taking her hand and giving it a light kiss. "Mary, when are you going to stop denying that we have an undeniable bond; and that we should run away to Paris together?"  
Mary just laughed, her age almost disappearing for a moment as merriment filled her eyes. "About the same time that you get your butt back from cloud nine and tell me what you're ordering today."  
Jason gave a look of mock hurt, before laughing as well. "Well I heard the Shepherds pie is good," He glanced over at Taylor, sticking out his tongue in fake disgust, "but that just doesn't seem like me today. So... I'm thinking a Turkey Sandwich on Rye." He folded his menu, handing it to Mary as she finished writing down his order. "And I think my good friend here is on a diet of some sort, so what do you got that's low in self-importance?" He stuck out his tongue again, this time teasingly, the laughter almost breaking past the half-serious look he was trying desperately to maintain.

Taylor resisted the urge to hit Jason with the menu in her hand, and turned to face Mary with a smile.  
"Mary, can I have the chef salad with Italian dressing?" Mary nodded, took the menus, and left Taylor the only object of Jason's attention. _Great,_ she couldn't help but think.  
"Like you're one to talk about others with self-importance issues?" she shot at him, smirking and twirling the straw in her glass. "At least I'm self-important because I'm trying to 'save the world.'"

"Oh please, everyone is trying to save the world these days," Jason smirked, leaning as far back in his seat as the snug chairs would allow. "Seen those green peace guys, marching up and down the streets with their signs talking about how the polution is ruining our world. HA! Like the world is really going to end because of a few toxic gases that we release from our factories.  
"And then there's the anti-war guys running around everywhere. 'End the war in the middle east', 'No involvement is the key to victory'... What a load of crap." He shrugged, waving his hand dismissively, "Personally I think if these people are so stupid as to believe that blowing each other up is going to make their god happy, then I say, let 'em."  
Suddenly realizing he was rambling a little, he relaxed in his chair, leaning back towards Taylor. "But that is neither here nor there. So, tell me, still think that you'll be _able_ to save the world from people with greater numbers and greater resources?" The carefree smirk still covered his face, proving that he was just trying to goad Taylor into arguing about.

"People have done more with far less resources than us." Taylor replied, playfully levitating the salt shaker to prove her point.  
"Of course, if we had a few more talented Shifters on our side, it could definitely help." she added. Taylor knew it was a useless gesture, Jason Kale only had one concern in life - Jason Kale.  
"It may be slow going, but we'll get there one day and that's all that matters. As for those other people, at least they believe in something. What do you believe in Jason?"

"Well when you find some more Shifters let me know, and I'll be sure to tell them that their abilities suck compared to mine." He smirked, picking up his glass and taking a long drink. As if to prove his point, his glass changed shapes a couple times (a glass bird, a baby bottle, a test tube) before returning to its normal shape.  
Returning it to the table, he added, "And there are a lot of things I believe in. I believe gravity will always draw me towards the ground. I believe that a stiff wind will always send a chill down my spine. I believe that anything stabbed, shot, or projected through my heart will be incredibly painful, and the last thoughts I have after that will be 'I wish I had just stayed in bed today'.  
"But with all of that, none of those things make me change my day-to-day life." He shrugged, reaching across the table to brush a stray hair out of Taylor's face, "And it's just my opinion that everyone who's risking theirs is just sorta kinda wasting their time."

"It's nice to think that you believe I'm wasting my life on a fool's crusade." Taylor replied, frowning slightly before shrugging. "But you're not the first and you probably won't be the last. You certainly have a pessimistic view of the world though. I mean, there are good things. Like shepherd's pie," she joked.

Jason's expression softened visibly at Taylor's words, a look of regret filling his eyes; like usual he'd gone and stumbled over his tongue. A soft sigh escaped his lips, as he said, "If someday there truly is a better world for all of us psychics, where we can live in peace without having to look over our shoulder for Division men following us, then I'll be the first one there, helping them build a monument to your work.  
"No matter what it is that you do, it's not a fool's crusade as long as you are putting all of yourself into it. And this is one of those things, Taylor." He awkwardly maneuvered himself into a position that he could lean across the table and give her a soft kiss on the cheek. "You don't need me to tell you how awesome what you're doing really is."  
He returned to his seat, a brief second passing before the smirk was back on his lips, and the bemused sparkle back in his eye. "Still doesn't mean I'm crazy enough to tag along for that ride, just letting you know before you bother to ask."

"Ohhhh, believe me, I know," she replied, the smile back on her face. "I know better than to keep barking up that tree. And I can just imagine you chiseling away to create a monument to me." she joked, looking off as if daydreaming about her statue. "I really am deserving of it, of course."  
A moment later their food arrived and the table fell into a comfortable silence as they ate. Taylor watched Jason from under her eyelashes. He was a truly interesting person to be around - so contradictory when he could claim to not care about anything but himself but still seem to care about her well-being. Maybe he was more of a good guy than he thought.

------

**Jamethestitch writes:**

'Lo ladies, gents, and whoever else is reading this. This is James writing, just giving you the heads up on a few things. The most important thing is that my powers have developed into something pretty fan-freaking-tastic. I can raise the dead. Oh yeah. That includes that blonde Division lackie I found among the dead Chinese mafia, Victor I think his name is. I'm posting this on the run at the moment, hope to keep you updated soon.

**Nick-justnick comments:**

Hey, James. I've heard of you through this Scottish guy everybody thought was dead. He came back, and the next day you skipped town. I don't think that's a coincidence. How about we meet at the Red Horse Tavern and talk things out?

**Jamethestitch comments:**

Depends on the day and I hope that you don't mind company. I'm willing to talk, you'll just have to give me a little heads up on the when and where.

**Nick-justnick comments:**

Maybe about 1 in the afternoon, day after tomorrow? Red Horse Tavern like I said. It's in Piccadilly Square.

**Jamesthestich comments:**

Can we push it (no pun intended) to six?

**Nick-justnick comments:**

You're pretty funny, James. Sure, I've got time. Six it is. See you there.

**Jamethestitch comments:**

Assuming nothing happens. The head of UK Division is in the neighborhood so watch out.

-------

**Nick-justnick writes:**

Hi. I'm Nick Gant, as you all probably know. 'Cause you're probably my friends, or you're creepy stalkers from Division. If you're a creepy stalker from Division, leave now. I've been looking for some good psychics in Scotland. We still haven't found out how powerful the British division is -- there hasn't been much trouble for us in England, but maybe the Brits are just sneakier. Right now, I have this odd happy feeling about having given Cassie pepper spray.

**Kirapushes comments:**

Yeah, creepy guy following her... not good. Hi Nick!

**Nick-justnick comments:**

Kira! You've got a journal too! A creepy guy is following Cassie? That's really bad. Maybe I should get over there...

**Anonymous comments:**

Safety comes not from the weapons we wield, but the purpose that we divine for ourselves. I would say that you have not escaped your worry for Cassie by just arming her with such a paltry weapon, since you still think about protecting her.  
The divisions of the old world are much more careful about revealing themselves than those of the Americas and the countries who are entirely new to this scene. They have waited centuries to gather us as their army, they are not going to be hasty now in their retrieval of these forces. When we are settled, and convinced that we have escaped their eyes, that is when they will swoop down upon us like a locust, and devour the peace that we have so quickly welcomed.

**Nick-justnick comments:**

Um, yeah, I'm still worrying about Cassie. That's why I gave her the pepper spray in the first place. Duh.  
Thanks for those nifty division tips, although I thought all us psychics came about through experiments in World War II, which would make it pretty hard for the Europeans to be trying to get us for "centuries". It's hard to be a settled psychic anyway. Many of us are always on the run.

**Anonymous comments:**

But if you still worry for Cassie's safety, then the gift of Pepper Spray you gave her has done nothing to alleviate your fears. I would just question why you would give her this, and then not trust it to do the job you wanted from it.  
It is true that we were experimented on during WW2, but no one knows how all of us actually came to exist. Some believe that we _were_ created during those experiments; though I have a hard time believing that Nazi scientists, in the middle of a war, somehow unraveled some secret of our DNA that modern scientists can't even fathom.  
I prefer to believe that we have existed for much longer than that, that we are the fabled heroes of stories long long ago. We are the wizards, magicians, oracles, and gods that have led humanity for such a long time.

**Nick-justnick comments:**

The theory is that the pepper spray will help. It's a weapon. Having a sword won't get rid of a monster, you know? Pepper spray doesn't stop creepy guys from hitting on Cassie in the first place.  
That's an interesting theory. It would make a lot of sense.  
Your whole "anonymous" thing is kind of worrying me. How do I know you're not with Division?

**Anonymous comments:**

You don't know that I'm not with Division. For all you know you could have just alerted me to the fact that your friend Cassie is protected by nothing more than pepper spray (which means she's obviously not one of the psychics who could protect themselves with other abilities, so I'd guess... Sniffer? Watcher? Shadow?). You also would have told me that you've been doing work in Scotland and are now returning to England. And you've also informed me that you are unaware of the UK's division movements, which means that if I do have you under surveillance, I know that you haven't a clue it's happening. Also your numbers are small, since you believe that three more psychics is a big deal.  
However, if I was working for Division, I most likely wouldn't have responded to this post at all, in case you have a computer wiz hanging around that could track me. I also wouldn't have referred to myself in association with you when I said, "When _we_ are all settled..." But you just never know.  
I would suggest a bit more discretion on your part when making public comments in an internet forum. Maybe someday we'll meet, _Nick Grant_, and then I can let you know in person just how foolish it is to be so open with so much information.

**Nick-justnick comments:**

Nick Gant. No R. If you were from Division, you wouldn't have gotten that wrong. As far as I know, Division takes the whole psychics-from-WWII thing as gospel, which makes you being one of their agents unlikely... or else European Divisions are even weirder than I thought.  
Besides, a good Division agent wouldn't say something that would make me think you were with Division. If you hadn't just said that, you could probably have gotten me to admit what Cassie's gift was by now. If that's even her name.

**Anonymous comments:**

Unless of course I was the first actually intelligent agent you've ever encountered. How would it be in my best interest to act exactly as you would expect me to? There is far much more to be gained by slipping in under my enemies radar, and just blending into the crowd. The more one stands out, the easier they are to avoid.  
And as I pointed out before, you once again proved just how naive you are to the actions of the UK's Division. For all you know they could have had Division around for a couple centuries; they could've been the original Knights of King Arthur's Realm. Maybe Merlin was the first Psychic that joined their ranks.  
But for all you know, I might be some random bloke off the street that you've run into a hundred times; and you've just never taken notice of me.

**Jamethestitch comments:**

Hey, Nick, James from the general area of Britain. You know that meeting we have planned? It might not be able to happen for a couple days. I've hit a roadblock and I don't know when it will be resolved. Feel free to drop a note or something. -James  
PS: Help would be great, two Movers would be fantastic against the roadblock

**Nick-justnick comments:**

Wow, that's a real bummer. Let me know where you'll be and I'll probably come help out.

------

**Pusher-addict writes:**

…Huh. An internet channel full of psychics. At least this doesn't look like a trap by division… or a dating site.

------

**Shadow-ali writes:**

I just finished trailing a bunch of anti-Division preppie college kids. I'm not complaining, but I'd enjoy the money a lot more if I could actually spend it on myself. But most of it goes to traveling to other cities where I'm needed. Like now, I'm in London. A Bostonian like me in London. If my ma could see me now she'd laugh. Maybe also cry at the life I lead, but that's neither here nor there. It's still sorta raining, but I'm too tired to go out for a bite. Good thing I'm in a hotel, they gotta have some sort of room service here with something decent.

------


	2. March 2nd and 3rd

DAYS TWO AND THREE

------

The rain was starting to clear, but a new chill had settled over the foggy streets. James pulled her coat tighter around herself and frowned. What was taking Victor so long to get to a hotel room? That man was helpless on his own. Breathing into her hands to warm them, James looked around instinctually and her blue eyes zeroed in on a young man across the road with dark hair who was staring right back at her.

Drake was unamused. This woman continued to stare at him, and he was feeling more and more uncomfortable. Part of him wanted to Push her into going somewhere else, but he restrained himself. Taking a drag on his cigarette, he broke the stare and turned the corner of a building, making a bee-line for the subway station. He was late getting home as it is, though he'd probably Push that bit of information out of their minds when he got home.  
As he walked, he flicked the cigarette to the ground, smothered it with his shoe, and continued.

James watched the guy round the corner and out of sight. She sighed and spotted Victor walking over. With a jerk of her head, she took off after the man, her heels claking loudly on the damp pavement.  
"Hey, wait up!"

Drake sighed, as he halted. Shaking his head slowly, he turned to the woman, his eyes dull with exasperation. "Yeah?" he asked, trying his best to sound cordial.

James slowed down and straightened her coat, taking no notice of Victor running up behind them, and gave a small smile. "Division?"

Drake scoffed at this. Division? Yeah right. They're the last people he'd ever want to work with. He hated Division more than any other group on the planet. And yet, she had a reason to worry. The look about her made her appear as if she were more than a psychic (he figured she was one, since she just asked if he was in Division), but...  
And then Victor came up. His first inclination was to Push him to suicide before he could get a chance to Move him, but then, it hit him. She was the Stitch who bended Victor to her will. "Ah, so you're the Stitch." he mused, reaching into his pocket to pull out another cigarette. "No, I'm not with Division. If I was, we wouldn't be having this conversation."  
He kept his eye on both of them; James because he didn't want her to touch him, and Victor because he was Victor. As he used his lighter to light the end of his cigarette, he glanced at his watch. He really needed to get home soon.

James adujusted her coat, her face suddenly confused. "We've met?" Through her mind she replayed the scene. The careful distance kept between the two of them and the wary eye always watchig Victor. "Drake, right?"

Drake nodded. This woman was odd, to be sure. "Yeah," he said, his worry about his exchange sister mounting. If it was true that the American Division was trying to get into the UK, then they weren't safe... least of all her.

"Seems like you have some ants in your pants. Need to be somewhere?" James asked, trying to seem calm and relaxed even though she was on edge because of the old rivalry between the boys and the fact that Drake could Push her.

Drake sighed at this. In a way, this was true. "It's my sister. I'm worried about her, and the rumors that Division is trying to get inside the UK... she's a psychic too, but she's not the type to defend herself like the other psychics I know. She's young, too."  
He was very worried about her. If Victor was on a leash and this woman was as powerful as she said he was, he didn't need to worry about him. That still didn't comfort him as to the concern of the girl's safety, though.

James nodded at this new information, her heart going out to the guy who cared so much about his family. "Maybe I can help. Being born in Division I know a neutral zone not far from here. We could move her there where she would be safe."  
"No you can't," Victor spoke suddenly, causing the other two to jump. James rolled her eyes and shot him a dirty look.  
"Three years and you still haven't learned."  
"You really think they'll just let you waltz in there. don't you?"  
"They won't have a choice," she growled. James and Victor continued to argue. both forgetting about Drake's presence.

Drake sighed. His pupils dilated, targeting James for a Push. He wasn't going to be doing anything major; he simply imprinted his phone number into her brain, subtly, so Victor wouldn't get it. With that, he turned, and made for the subway tunnel. He didn't have time to stand there and listen to them squabble like a married couple going through midlife crisis.

James and Victor continued to have at until James turned to say something to Drake only to find that he wasn't there. "See what you did." She said accusingly to Victor who crossed his arms and quirked an eyebrow. "Whatever, let's get some sleep. We have a lot to do."

------

**Nick-justnick writes:**

Finally coming back to headquarters in England after a month in Scotland. It's been a wee bit annoying spending time there... argh, I thought I'd gotten rid of the bloody-- Damnit, I WILL stop using Scottishisms. Okay, Scottish aside, I got information on three psychics while I was there. One Shadow, one Shifter, and a weird Stitcher who I think there's more to than meets the eye. Although none of them live in Scotland. I'm not sure if any of them have even been. But I DO think it's likely that they'll show up in England at some point. Or else I'll have to default to Plan B, which doesn't exist yet.

Going to meet Cassie today or tomorrow and show her all the data I got. Maybe she's reading this and will pick out a nice restaurant. She has way better taste in food than me.

------

**Pusher-addict writes:**

I was invited to join the "rogues" today by the same girl who was giving me weird looks earlier. It sounded like she was a Watcher. Why would a non-Division Watcher be interested in me? I'm here as an exchange student, not a soldier. But… it depends on what _she_ wants.

**Anonymous comments:**

If you have lived your life with anonimity, and have not yet crossed that invisible line between true neutrality and the never-ceasing war; then it would be my advice to you to never cross that line. Don't give in to those who would exploit your abilities for their own savage purposes; but at the same time, do not do battle with them, for their numbers are unceasing, and the conviction to their cause is unwavering.

**Pusher-addict comments:**

I was never allowed anonymity because of who I am, and _what_ I am. Division wants me to be their soldier, and the Rogues don't seem to be any different. This girl, though, this "Cassie." Someone whom I never met, and yet, she says she's having visions of me. To say that I'm worried is an understatement.

**Anonymous comments:**

If you believed that you lived every moment of your life without someone else peering over your shoulder, then you have severely underestimated your opponent. The Division has many Watchers who keep their never ceasing eyes upon us. We are not truly free of their influence, we are only being allowed to live our lives as we see fit, until such a time as they deem us ready to join their ranks.  
This is why I say that if you have lived your life with anonimity thus far, that you should not jump into this war. Obviously you are not familiar with the weapons that Division will use against these 'Rogues' and that makes you unprepared for the consequences of your actions. A neutral force which poses no threat to their purpose will never face their full fury. However if you step into the light and make yourself known, they will come down upon you with such force that you will be lucky to even remember the days when you claimed to be free.

**Pusher-addict comments:**

Division already tried to reel me in. I refused. Thus why I refused to join the Rogues... but I can't allow my exchange sister to put herself in harm's way. It's not in my nature.

**Anonymous comments:**

Then potect those close to you, and forget the rest of it.

**Pusher-addict comments:**

If she willingly puts herself in danger, there's not a lot I can do. I'm not joining the Rogues. They're on a suicide mission... if you really want to take down Division, you can't do it with force.

**Nick-justnick comments:**

....don't touch Cassie.

**Pusher-addict comments:**

Didn't plan on it.

-----

**Jamethestitch writes:**

Met a new kid, Drake is his name. He's very uneasy with Victor but whatever, he's my henchman. Also, you are not going to believe who I got a text from. Carter. Noah. I know.

-----

Alex Morris sat quietly in the center of the large circular room where the Division kept their most trusted and powerful Watchers. This is where he spent most of his time, because here, in the silence of this room, he felt the most powerful. Here his mind was tapping into not just the thoughts of seven other powerful psychics, but to the very shape and flow of the future. Here he was tapped into more of 'what could be' than any Watcher could ever dream of being. He was not one mind surfing across the waves of fate, he was the great eye watching every path take shape and fall away into darkness.  
Suddenly something caught his attention, drawing him out of the waves and bringing him to focus on just one of the Watcher's mind. His passive expression vanished, replaced by a dark frown that spoke volumes to what he had just seen. The Watcher's eyes snapped open as they stared up into his pale blue orbs, and for a moment Alex was sure he saw fear there. He almost wanted to ask if the Watcher really was so blind to the future that she thought her life was going to end right there with the telling of what she'd just seen; or if she wasn't aware that Alex had seen it too.  
But he didn't let his mind linger on these thoughts for more than a few moments. His shoes squeaked against the floor as he quickly pivoted towards the door. Each step sounded like the thunderclap in the otherwise silent room, but it didn't disturb any of the Watchers, save for the single woman who stared after Alex.  
Then the door severed that view, and he was quickly transversing the space to his office. "Team Six," He snapped, his voice cracking through the normal noise on the eighth floor. "Get me three sniffers, two movers, and a pusher in here yesterday." The order was immediately obeyed, four people jumping to search their computers for the appropriate people for such a task.  
"Team Seven," His eyes crossed the room, the group that they came to rest on visibly flinching beneath his gaze, "I need eyes on the streets, I want every traffic cam between 10th and Jackson up on those monitors," he motioned towards a wall where twenty to thirty computer screens covered the entire area, "before you even _think_ about taking a coffee break." The group jumped just like the previous, their attention instantly turning to the computers in front of them, desperately trying to keep their eyes off of Alex.  
He started moving across the space, his eyes once again shifting to the other side of the room, "Team Eight," Another visible flinch that almost made Alex want to smirk, "Bring Project Apollo online and get me ears in the same area as our eyes. If someone so much as sneezes I want you to be able to tell me where it was and for how long that sound lasted." And once again, the group jumped into action.  
His eyes crossed the room, watching them all working, before he entered his own private office. Dropping down at his computer, he typed out an announcement for the rest of the Division agents.

**ATTN: All active agents**

There is going to be an increase in rebel activity in London in the coming months. As of now our policy is changed from non-interference to data gathering. Anyone who has information about rogue psychics acting in any way contrary to our company's best interest is to be reported to us ASAP. Any actions that would alert these psychics to your presence before they can be properly apprehended with result in a permanent punishment. As always the Division Wiper can be reached at XXX-XXX-XXXX when you are following a Watcher.

-- Alex M  
Division

The computer beeped once as it sent off the message, but Alex didn't even wait that long. He was already back out in the offices as he yelled, "Where the hell is my partner?!?" They were probably the only person that Alex actually enjoyed being around. They didn't avert their gaze when they looked in his eyes, and he liked that.

Leah's phone beeped as she stepped into the large skyscraper that hid Division's headquarters. Her stiletto heels click loudly against the marble floor as she flipped on her phone to read the message.  
Skimming it as she scanned her card through the reader. The elevator door slid open to admit her. The second it closed a panel in front of her hissed open to reveal a retinal scanner and a microphone. Stepping up to the scanner, the red light briefly flashed in her eye before the computer voice said _voice identification please_. Clearing her throat, Leah snapped out "Leah Russo."  
the panel closed and the computer replied _clearance approved_ as the elevator began to move upwards. Tapping her heel impatiently, she mused over what could have happened to make Alex send out such a message. Non-interference until there was a reason to act was Division's number one tactic. Secrecy and security.  
As the elevator doors finally opened she heard Alex yelling "Where the hell is my partner?!?" and couldn't help but smirk. Nodding at the few agents that stood by the elevator, she strutted into the office and placed a hand on her hip.  
"Looking for me?"

"Oh thank god, someone competant is finally here," In a normal setting this would have earned Alex many distasteful looks from all of the other people working on that floor; but it was fairly common knowledge that Alex didn't think anyone knew what they were doing, save of course for Leah. Of all the people technically employed 'under' him, she was the only one that was above his wrath.  
This did not mean that she was above his arrogance though, as was made very apparent by the fact that he turned and headed back into his office. When she didn't immediately follow, his head poked out quickly to say, "That means you should be walking in here, _now_."

Leah resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Alex, though a decent leader, was as arrogant as the day was long. At first, she'd found him to be an arroagant, self-centered, egotistical, silly child who'd been promoted over her to UK Division head. Eventually, she'd come to realize that most of those descriptions were true, but he had been the right person for the job and even she had learned things under him.  
Stepping into his office, she took a seat across from his desk(without being asked) and waited for him to tell her what was going on.

The door was slammed quite unceremoniously behind them, Alex immediately crossing the short distance to his own chair and dropping into it. There wasn't really a need for any foolish questions like, 'Did you get the notice?' or 'So, wanna guess what's going on?'. Leah was a good agent, one that Alex trusted was always on top of her game. And just by looking at her he could easily have gleaned the answer to any question she had from her head; but being his partner afforded her the luxury of _not_ having every secret ripped from her head at the drop of a hat.  
"You know, sometimes I regret my decision to get those seven watchers together. Originally I thought it was such a great idea, we have seven watchers monitoring seven different possible outcomes of the future, reasonably nothing should be able to sneak up on us." Alex's eyes flashed darkly before they drifted away from Leah's face, staring out the glass windows of his office into the are where his 'minions' were hard at work. "I have even enjoyed it because being a Listener I just have to _be there_ to get all this information, I don't have to get it all in reports, or second-hand.  
"It only starts being an issue when four of the seven watchers predict an outcome that is unfavorable to Division." Now his eyes were back on Leah's, the frustration obvious on his face. "There's going to be a growth in resistance to Division movements in the next few months. A resistance that actually has the chance to create problems for us. Because I have four different outcomes to this problem that don't end favorably for us, I'll just tell you that once any of them come to pass, we'd be finished. And while I hold no affections for the other Divisions throughout the world, two of the outcomes would mean the end of them as well.  
"This is why I have just mobilized our resources. We need to be able to find the people who are going to start this problem, and get Watchers on them ASAP."

Leah nodded and immediately the wheels began spinning in her head as to which of her sources she should contact first. Spending the last five years of her life in London, she'd developed quite the little snitch network. She'd found that, wherever she went, there was always a Psychic willing to give up their enemies(or friends for that matter) in exchange for safety, money, or anything else Division could offer. Just look at her brother – he'd been killed by a group of Psychics they had thought were their friends…  
Shaking off thoughts of her brother, Leah reached onto Alex's desk and grabbed the black folder she assumed contained the Watchers' drawings. It had "CLASSIFIED – SECURITY LEVEL 5" on it – meaning she, Alex, and the Division HQ liason were the only agents in the whole building authorized to view it. Flipping through the drawings, she found herself deeply disturbed by what the psychics had seen. Watchers creeped her out in general, but these sketches were…off-putting.  
"So, what does it mean?"

Alex laced his fingers together in front of his mouth, his elbows resting on the edge of the desk. He was silent for a few moments, his eyes getting a distant far-away look to them as he turned that question over and over in his mind. This was one of those few rare moments where he wished he was someone else with a different ability; actually being a Watcher right now seemed like a good exchange.  
"It means we are going to step up our game here in the UK," His eyes slowly came back to focus on Leah, and there was a rare moment where the uncertainty he was feeling came across in his eyes. It was yet another thing that he shared only with his partner; when he walked out the door of his office, there would be no sign of weakness, no sign of uncertainty, he'd look prepared for war. "We'll mobilize all the resources necessary to prevent any of those outcomes from becoming a possibility."  
His face quickly regained its normal form as he added, "If these scattered psychics think that we're going to roll over and let them take us out, then they are in for the fight of their lives. I doubt any of them truly understand just how deep our connections are." He nodded towards the door, "Our team out there is going to be watching everything for any sort of changes that could point to these outcomes. When we see it, we will squash it."  
He hestitated for a moment, before continuing, "Part of this 'all resources' means that you and I will be investigating some of the higher end cases. Anything that I have reasonable cause to believe is of greater importance than just a normal team can investigate, I'll be flagging for personal investigation." The past few months had been a nice time of 'relaxing' for the two of them. At least, Alex had enjoyed not being out in the field every day. He'd assigned Leah to head of the abilities training department. Having a Freezer to prevent the newbies from hurting themselves or others was always nice. "Jack, your assistant will be taking over your department until I believe that our direct assistance is no longer necessary."

Leah nodded and pulled out her phone. She quickly entered in a message and sent it off to Jack before looking back up at Alex.  
"Done," she said and stood up to look out into the office. "I agree, telling the other Divisions would be suicide. We may all be on the same side, but we both have made more than a few enemies in our time." she had to smirk and looked over her shoulder at her partner. Alex _definitely_ had enemies.  
"I got a report from one of my snitches last night and it seems fitting now that we have this information from the Watchers. Nick Gant, Cassie Holmes, and Kira Hudson are in London." At this, she turned around to gauge Alex's reaction.

There was a moment of silence that passed as Alex considered Leah carefully. For a moment he wanted to acuse her of lying, but she wasn't that kind of person; it was beneath her to lie, and she knew it would have been pointless in the end. "I don't suppose we have anything laying around that would give the Watchers the ability to locate them for us? Or something for the Sniffers to trace them with?"  
The Division that lost them had been incredibly tight lipped about the whole incident, simply informing the other sections that should they apprehend these three, they were to be turned over immediately. Unlikely. If Alex ever got his hand on those three, he'd squeeze every ounce of information out of them.  
"At least it gives us somewhere to start." Rising from his desk, he was out the door in a flash, shouting orders to the room again. "Team Seven and Eight bring up facial recognition algothrims and voice print identification for Nick Gant, Cassie Holmes, and Kira Hudson; as they were provided to us earlier this year. Matches of 70% or higher are to be reported to me ASAP." There were a few 'yes boss' and 'right away' heard around the office, but it was an unneccesary pleasantry, the only thing that Alex cared about was the fact that they immediately got to work.

Leah followed Alex out of the office and stood close enough where only he could hear her.  
"My source said they got here a few months ago but are laying low. They don't know what exactly they're doing here but my guess would be they're recruiting. Plenty of Psychics trying to disappear in London."  
She moved over to look over the shoulder of one of the minions as they ran the facial recognition software. She was sure there were plenty men and women in London who would fit the description of those three. They would be busy for a while.  
"If you don't mind, Alex, I'd like to go check in with one of my sources. Do you need me?"

Alex gave Leah a measuring look, taking his time with that question. Letting her out of his sight meant a longer wait time if they did get a hit on any of those three; but at the same time, he knew it could take days before they'd get a positive hit. There was more good she could do out on the streets talking with those crazies that she liked to squeeze. So with a wave of his hand, he dismissed her. "Keep your cell on, I'll be calling you when we're ready."

-----

**Jamethestitch writes:**

Met two pretty cool guys, Drake is the one I've had the most communication with. He's a Rogue idealist, not always the best combo, but at least his head is on his shoulders securely. The second one I haven't technically met yet, we're meeting soon at a Tavern. His name's Nick and everytime I mention him Victor cringes. How many people has my new minion po'ed?

-----


	3. March 4th and 5th

-----

**Pusher-addict: **Ellie? I'm home now. Are you okay?

**Elaineofavalon: **Yeah, I'm okay... where were you all day? You've been gone for so long.

**Pusher-addict: **I ran into someone... A girl named Cassie, and then a woman named James. I'm sorry I worried you... I still promised I'd listen to you sing your new song, so I will.**  
Elaineofavalon: **oh... of course you ran into people, what was I thinking?

**Pusher-addict: **I got home as fast as I could. I wanted to hang out with you before your parents forced us to go to bed...**  
Elaineofavalon: **You know they wouldn't force you, but they would force me. I'm not liking the early bed times, I'm 15 for crying out loud.

**Pusher-addict: **I know how you feel. Maybe I can Push them into letting you stay up?

**Elaineofavalon: **would LOVE you forever if you could! wish i could do that, but i'm only a healer, GAH

**Pusher-addict:**Alright. I will, then. We can stay up late and watch that one show you like. I forgot what it's called... please don't kill me for it.

------

Alison walked into the room and closed the door behind her. Her job simply required her to follow people around, but it still made her unbelievably tired. She collapsed into the chair by the window and watched the rain trickle down the glass. A wad of money burned in her pocket and a grumble erupted from her stomach. Turning on the lamp that sat on the table, Alison grabbed the menu off the table and scanned it for something to order. Her left hand blindly felt around for the phone, which began to ring on its own.  
Her hands froze. Alison wasn't ready for another job, but she was also pretty sure she hadn't given this number out to anyone.

When Alison finally clicked open the phone, a strong masculine voice began speaking without even waiting for her to say 'Hello'.  
"This is Division, Alison. You've been activated. If you do not comply with the task we have for you, a Pusher will arrive at your location in fifteen minutes to get your compliance. However if you will do your job willingly, then there will be a large reward at the end for your assistance in this task. Respond."  
Then the line went silent except for the man's breathing.

Alison put the phone back down on the receiver. A Division job. Alison got a kick out of the way the sides took turns when it came to hiring her.

She wouldn't be able to grab a bite to eat in fifteen minutes, so she put the menu back on the table next to the phone. Division liked to enter a room in style, and Alison wondered how they'd make their entrance tonight. She stared at her watch, watching the time slowly pass by.

It was just shy of fifteen minutes when the door handle suddenly began making a wierd creaking noise as it froze from the inside out. Then it shattered, the pieces of broken metal falling to the floor. Without any further resistance, the door simply swung open, and two men dressed in black suits entered the room.  
The first man quickly swept through the apartment, checking any of the other rooms for occupants, as the second made his way over to where Alison was standing. "Hello Alison, I've been sent to collect you." His eyes shot black as a memory of owing the Division a favor was inserted into her head. "The Division is calling in your debt as we are mobilizing all resources available to us."

------

It was always funny, Kale thought, no matter the many opportunities he'd had to become immune to such a realisation, how not having to endure slow transition from one continent to the next allowed him the mildly surreal awareness of different places smelling and even feeling so different. It was almost as if his regular human senses were reminded not to be as naive as those of others, thanks to his ability to shift through space in an instant. Only moments ago, Kale's skin was surrounded welcomingly by the sun drenched aura of India, whereas now the faint aroma of spices and heated sand reluctantly died a quick death against the cold, wet musk of London air, warmth surging from his skin like a hot coal in the arctic. Looking down over the casual clammer of inhabitants that trafficked through Knightsbridge, Kale's right hand clutched at the compact black courier satchel given to him by his most recent client, a person whose face he might never see since it was masked with a fine dark material, perhaps for reasons cultural or strategic, much like those who stood closely near his client's side. Still, it was of no accepted consequence to Kale what his clients motives were, he had been employed to transport items which involved learnings or additional directions that ranged from the unfathomable to the ridiculous. And that was just it, Kale was a transporter, not a detective or aspiring situational analyst, he was just here to do one thing; **_Find the girl, deliver the package_**, he reminded himself.  
Rather than considering how afraid or at the very least concerned he should be of failing in his task, given the offputtingly meticulous and intimidating countenance of his most recent employer, Kale found himself pondering only how it was both slightly odd as well as annoying that his provided instructions had been so obscure and interderminate. _Well, whoop-dee-doo, I have a street name and an elusive description of a single white female_**_...guess I'm on to a winner_**, he sarcastically thought. It may have been natural disfavour alone that prevented Kale from considering that his employers may have also been psychics, in spite of a number of telltale indicators holding true at present.  
**_Great, now all I have to do is figure out which one of the many little tarts roaming around Knightsbridge is meant to take this off my hands_**, Kale processed privately within the walls of his slightly aggitated mind whilst looking down from the rooftop he had Slipped upon, almost visibly smirking with regards to the fact of how rooftops had served him so well as an overseer, that he had become familiar with so many across the world. Oddly though, fate did not gift this day with the typical slew of young caucasian females one might expect from this particular area of London on a daily basis; maybe then, the heystack concealing Kale's needle wouldn't be quite so enormous after all, and maybe also, the details provided to him were kept uncomplicated for a reason after all. **_Whatever, let's just get this over with so I can shimmy around my hot white arse at some beach party in Kabo_**, Kale quipped to himself half-seriously while his eyes scanned intrusively over the streets than ran far beneath his feet with all the eagerness of a starving hawk, ipod singing electric songs of modern rhythm to his ears.  
**_There_**, he thought suddenly, after fruitless moments had passed, **_that has to be her_**, he concluded hopefully, having grown tired of his mundane search for the reciever of his delivery. Double-checking the sidewalks with sharp glances to secure his findings, **_it's meant to be now...has to be her_**. As sketchy as it seemed, he had done what he was asked to; he had gone to a certain street in Knightsbridge and found the only young blonde in sight, the rest was up to the accuracy of his employers instructions. **_What the shag is even in this thing? It feels like a friggin' paperweight!_**, Kale wondered of the satchel, before Slipping down to an alleyway nearest the blonde, naturally disheveled looking girl he'd set his sights upon.  
**"Hello..."**, he said to the girl with rainbow stained sections of hair hanging out of an otherwise flaxen nest, removing his earphones. **"...Hmmm...well look, it's like this...I'll spare you the small talk if you spare me a few seconds of your time, and I promise, no pamphlets about Christianity, the oncoming Armageddon or adopting some gayly named whale you'll never meet."** Kale's lips beamed with the delicious light of mischief as he made first contact with the girl. Where most others would have found it embarassing having to encounter and address a complete and utter stranger, and then abruptly deliver an item to them that they may or may not be expecting, Kale did not. Instead he was amused by situations otherwise universally understood as awkward, although admittedly most of his amusement came from his own unique brand of audacity and also basking mischievously in wake of it.

Cassie gave the man a _what the hell?_ look before stepping away from him slightly. She knew how to protect herself, of course, but he was a pretty big guy and she was still just a 16-year-old girl.  
Deciding it was better to find out what he wanted before she ran away screaming, she shrugged nonchalantly and folded her arms across her chest.  
"Okay, whatcha got?"

The young psychic seemed startled at Kale's forced intrusion, which to him was amusing in itself, knowing that he was generally harmless unless really provoked, it was hillarious to Kale that he be considered some sort of street thug who attacks young girls. Ultimately though, he was just happy that this was going to be over soon, due to the girl's apparent compliance, which meant he could go spend the rest of his remaining day somewhere far more illustrious than Knightsbridge, London.  
"Great, you're not a runner...that makes things slightly less annoying...", Kale explained, looking as though he had just breathed a sigh of relief, "...in short..._this_ is for you." He handed over the modestly heavy courier bag by the strap quite swiftly, even in lack of explanation as to what it contained or who it was from, but then in truth he didn't know such things himself. Little did he know that the glass orb inside the bag had once been owned by the sixteen year old's mother, and had also played an essential, if subtle role in what would one day be the reshaped fates of all psychics who lived at the mercy of The Division.  
"Oh and whatever it is...", Kale began to tighten his brow and roll his eyes from side to side as he strove to recall his clients instructions as exactly as possible, "...don't go getting all trigger happy, it's good for one use and one use only...they said you'd know when to use it," he concluded, looking as though he was already preparing to make an exit.

Curiosity won over Cassie's wariness and she pulled the bag open. Inside was a small box and a piece of paper. She pulled the paper out and gave an involuntary gasp when she read the quickly scratched _My Cassie_ on one side of the folded page.  
"This...this is my mom's handwriting." she whispered and looked up to see the stranger turning away from her.  
"No!" she reached out, grabbing his arm. "How did you get this? Tell me!"

Kale shrugged away the girl's desperate grip on his arm, turning to face her again, unable beyond his control to really give her any of the answers she sought.  
"They never said you'd get all...talky...", Kale shared his inner monologue vocally, as he often did, much to the usual annoyance of those who came to be around him. "...look blondie, I just deliver...I don't know anything about the people who wanted you to have whatever is in that bag...and if I did, I kind of couldn't tell you anyway...customer confidentiality and such."  
Although Kale had no connection or feeling of obligation towards the girl, he was not emotionally cold to the fact that she was clearly effected by the note that had came from inside the courier bag he'd given her. He couldn't disclose any confidential information to her even if he wanted to, he had none, yet at the same time he didn't want to leave her in the street troubled and upset because of something he had helped to do.  
"Don't get all daytime TV soap opera on me! Little girls crying, not so good with that." Kale spoke in mixed tones of genuine discomfort as well as playfulness. It was rare that Kale ever found himself applying effort to choose his words carefully, but this was one of those times. He found himself inside one of those moments, in which one is aware that there are a number of things that he should do, but none of which he finds appropriate or possible. He should have given the girl a reassuring touch, he should have made efforts to console her, but he what he had in wit and one liners, he lacked in dealing with girly emotional situations.  
"Maybe you should look at what else is in the bag...maybe that will tell you something?" Perhaps he couldn't give her any information personally, but Kale at least distracted the girl's current trail of thought while at the same time making a suggestion as to how she might learn more about the mysterious delivery she had received.

------

Nick was sitting at a table in a restaurant, and thought that the seashell-patterned tablecloths were really tacky. He had been waiting for five minutes and already ordered a glass of Sprite and grilled turkey sandwich for himself. The waiter looked impatient. "Oh, and a Diet Coke for my friend," Nick told him. Speaking of that friend, he hoped Cassie would show up soon. Nick had a lot of stuff to tell her and wanted to know what the Rogues had done while he was away. He drummed his fingers on the table.

Cassie shrugged off her jacket as she scanned the tiny themed restaurant. Nick wasn't hard to spot, as the place was pretty empty. Giving into her teenaged-girl-temptations, she practically bounded over to Nick and threw her arms around his neck.  
"Nick! I've missed you!"

Nick returned her embrace and almost pulled her off the ground a bit, then he set her down again.  
"Missed you too, Cass. What trouble have you gotten into since I've been gone?"

"Oh you know, all kinds of trouble." she replied as she took the seat across from him. "You know we're lost without our big bad Super Nick. What about you? You just disappeared for a while, Kira and I were starting to get worried."

"Well," Nick said, sitting back down, "I got a _lot_ of information while I vanished." He took out a sheet of paper from his bag. At the top were three pictures: A woman with curly hair, a smirking man in a suit, and a cross, pale woman. "Alison Malley. She's a mercenary Shadow. Jason Kale. Shifty Shifter. Jamie-Lynn 'James'. I think she's raised the dead at least three times." Nick crossed his arms. "Did big bad Super Nick had a good enough excuse for being gone?"

Cassie eyed the pictures for a moment before looking up at Nick and shrugging.  
"I suppose," she replied, fighting a smile. She was never a very smiley or perky girl, but Nick always brought it out in her. Three years ago they'd forged a bond that she didn't think she'd ever have again after her mother was taken away from her. He was her best friend, however odd their friendship may be, and she had genuinely missed his presence.  
"Did you approach any of them?"

"I contacted James, but she said she had some 'roadblock that two Movers could really help with'. Asked her how I could help and called Nicole to see if she was interested, but haven't heard from either of them since."  
The waiter arrived with their drinks; Nick took a sip of his soda. "Okay, I think that's about it. Oh, and have you been carrying your pepper spray?" He shook a fork at her in a mock-fatherly way.

Cassie rolled her eyes and pulled her keys out of her bag, the pink pepper spray can dangling off of the end of it. "Yes, I have it, o wise one." she replied as she stuffed it back into her bag. "So, have you seen Kira since you've been back? She's been a little.... difficult without you here."

Nick frowned. "She texted me, but I haven't seen her. I should soon. There are times I worry about her..." He decided to change the subject. "I heard you say you were working on a new project before I left. Made any progress?"

"Sort of, not really." she replied, twirling the straw in her cup. The others still looked at her as a baby, and when she failed at her 'job' she hated it.  
"I finally figured out who the vision was about though. This random guy I met at Trafalgar Square today. Really cool in a dark sort of way."

"Hey, that's great," he said. There was a bit of a silence. He looked to see if the waiter was coming.  
"So, know anything about him besides him being at Trafalgar Square?"

"He's a Pusher. Typical one - uses his power to get free food and the like. At first I thought he was gonna try to Push me but he seemed to know who we are. Apparently, word is getting around about us. We should be careful, if we go around making ourselves obvious Division's going to figure out really quickly where we are."  
The waiter quickly returned with their food and Cassie fell silent as she tore into the pasta. She was starving.

Nick took a hearty bite of his sandwich. "That doesn't sound so good. Time to start getting more subtle, but we should keep on recruiting. This could mean Division might want to confront us."

"If they do, we don't stand a chance at this point. You know as well as I do they outnumber us twenty to one, and that's just counting Division UK."  
Cassie took a break to eat more of her pasta before continuing. "What we really need is a Reader. Someone who can tell us who's Division and who's not. We can't have a repeat of Seattle." Cassie's mind immediately went back to when they had been trying to recruit what turned out to be an undercover Division agent. They'd somehow managed to escape from the Bleeder but had barely made it out of Seattle alive.

------

**Kale-Kincaid writes:**

I suppose I shouldn't be complaining about taking a trip to India...especially when travelling for me isn't quite so—expensive as it is for other people...then again I shouldn't even be irked about yet another anonymous contact approaching me at work, it's not like it doesn't happen every other day or more...I'm a freak magnet! But I don't know, I guess it's that time of day at which I trivialize the superficial details of my life. At least now I know I'm not due another cycle of this for about the next ten minutes.  
Coke tastes good, but not as good as Doctor Pepper...both with ice of course. Even better with a hefty splash of vodka and a lemon twist, and you know it! Americans really shouldn't presume I have bad teeth, because I'm British.  
I like bacon.  
I suppose if you're reading this you MIGHT think me spouting my inner monologue at random intervals in my LJ posts, is strange, but then if I've "friended" you, you obviously know me well enough by now to know...well actually you probably still think it's weird, and who am I to refuse? I'm all kinds of weird with freaky sauce on the top...but I'm also all kinds of yummy, so take a big bite or get out of the queue you big wankers!  
I'm so glad I don't allow anonymous posts.  
Well, I guess I should start packing. If anyone wants anything bringing back from India let me know before mid-day tomorrow and it's a done deal.  
When I'm done packing I'll call in for a drink, the usual place...in London that is, so I'll see some of you there? And Tommy, no Jäger Bombs for you; you hit on me enough when you're sober!  
Ashanti is SO overrated. Laterz munchkins!

------


	4. March 6th and 7th

**(A/N: I have to warn you; this somehow became the designated Fluff Day. None of this was 1angelette's fault, honest.)**

------

Dally was probably on his second beer, spending his time downing the alcoholic beverage. It was a typical Friday night for him; sitting on a bar stool and looking for some distraction to head his way. It was too much of an effort to do himself. His finger churned on the top of the nozzle from his bottle, letting out a jaded sigh. His eyes flickered to some of the women around and took _some_ interest; meaning to an extent he was interest. To an extent. While random music was made audible, he played with his keys, ping-ponging it with his palms under the table with his ability. When boredom stroke, his common sense broke.  
Letting out an exasperated sigh, he pushed his keys in his back pocket and shook his head. This night wasn't going to get anymore interesting. Downing the rest of his beer, he took his keys, tipped the bartender and walked out. While his eyes were glued to the floor, he shoved his hands into his back pocket and bumped into someone.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry for bumping into to you!" Nicole said in shock. "I'm sorry!"  
She fixed her hair and blushed as she gazed upon the man she stumbled upon. He turned away and took in a deep breath. She then lifted up her head and blushed.  
"I'm sorry I was just looking for someone, and...and... I didn't look where I was going... I was in such a hurry! My bad... I'm sorry!" she mumbled.

As he clashed with the girl he looked up and instinctively placed his hands on the side of her shoulders to steady them both. Before he could even apologize, she was on with her own. Both brows rose, surprised with how much remorse the little one had and shook his head silencing her, "No, no" he said with a smile, "I wasn't looking on where I was going. _My_ fault," he insisted and took his arms off the side of her arms and shoved them into his pockets. "But wow, you do look like to apologize a lot." He chuckled.

"Yes I do." She giggled, " I usually don't bump into strangers."  
She paused and thought of something to say, strangely she couldn't think of much. She had never felt such a feeling in a long time, could she possibly like the stranger that she bumped into? Is this all meant to be, in a sense in which he may be an important person in her life?  
_No no no I can't concentrate on that now!_ she thought. _I have to find Nick and Cassie! That's my mission right now! Should I bring him along, but will he be useful? Maybe I should just go now while I can. _"Oh, by the way, I'm Nicole!" was all she could say for now.

His head tilted as she seemed to be in such deep thought. Lips pursing awkwardly, he stared at the speechless girl. Before he could retort to anything, she spoke and stated a name. A smile twitched to the corner of his lips. "I'm Dallas," he said, "but you can call me adorable." He winked playfully. Dally was sort of a flirt; he couldn't doubt that. But never in his life was he in a real, serious relationship. All the time he either wasn't taken seriously or pushed the girl away. It was more of a habit than a negative trait of his. But maybe that could fall into the category. "Um, so, who you waiting for?" he asked trying to be a conversation starter, "you seemed to be in a rush."

"I'll call you Dallas for now!" she laughed; it was easy to laugh around him.  
Dallas then asked a question that she dreaded to answer. she didn't know if he could be a rogue or part of division. _It would be a total risk I would be taking, _Nicole thought. _Although I already know that division knows that they are here and I need to tell them fast. But I can't just leave Dallas waiting for a reply. And I can't believe he is such a flirt, haha! No, concentrate on the situation. Should I ask him if he is with division? He could possibly lie about it. _  
Nicole brushed her hair with her fingertips and sighed. _Well, since division already knows I can tell him. If he is a part of division I can make a run for it._ She took in a deep breath and exhaled.  
"I'm looking for Nick and Cassie."

And again, she was silent. She did seem like the silent girl, until that giggle would peer out of her lips. His lips pursed again, and when she spoke, it didn't really make things better. He cocked a brow, "Nick and Cassie?" he echoed and laughed a little, "You know, this is a big town. There's probably a dozen people with the same name" if she were to be specific, he could've realized the names. Dally wasn't really into the gossip of Division and the Rogues, but it was hard not to hear it when everyone talked about it. Especially Nick and Cassie; it must have been hard for them to keep low.  
Huffing a sigh, he gave her a grin, "So, while you wait, how about I buy you a drink?" He was oblivious that she had an ability, and if he knew of her alliance with the Rogues he would have strayed away. Dallas didn't like getting involved, after all. But right now, it didn't matter and all he wanted was a drink with a pretty girl.

"Um... I don't know. I should be meeting up with Nick and Cassie. I mean they haven't heard from me at all recently. I wasn't able to return their calls." she said quietly, "I am not quite sure if I have time."  
But as she took a second glance at him, she felt that she should stay low for a while. She has been running away from division for quite a while, and it would be great if she could calm down and act like nothing ever happened. Although she didn't remember much of her past, she knew that whoever got caught by division didn't survive it. Even though she was a skillful Mover, who knew what could happen if she got caught?  
She was now in deep thought, thinking hard to find her lost past. All she remembers is the hatred she feels for division and that she has been increasing her powers to get ready and get rid of them once an for all.  
She then returned to the present that Dallas was still there. She then blushed at how rude she was being.  
"Yeah, a drink is totally fine." She smiled.

Hearing the names again, he thought of the Nick and Cassie, the Rogues, but didn't realize she was the ones that Nicole was referring too and kept that thought to herself. It was almost clear that she was going to let down the offer. And yet _again_ she was silent. Dallas wondered if he could talk to the girl without the five seconds between each retort. It was almost as if it was getting awkward. He hoped that his presence wasn't such, and that she was just the type to daze off. Not that he mind; eye candy was good, right? Used to the moment of silence, he waited patiently until she replied.  
Again he smiled when she had agreed to take a drink with him and placed his hand on her back, ushering her to the bar stools. "Great," he said and flickered his eyes to the bartender. "Hey, two beers," he called out and then stopped, looking back at Nicole. "Beer is okay, right?"

"yeah of course a beer is totally fine!" she smiled.  
This was quite an awkward position for her. Having a drink with a guy she had just bumped into, as if they were best buddies. Yet somehow Dallas had something she liked that she couldn't quite name, a characteristic that appealed to her. Yet she must stay focused at the task at hand, and try not to get into any relationships. It would be the best for both of them if they weren't friends. Who knows, Division could possibly use Dallas against her.  
_Now, what should I talk about_, she thought. _I mean if I were to have a drink with this guy, we should at least chat a bit._

It wasn't uncommon for Dallas to buy a pretty girl a beer. It was the 'gent' side to him. Taking a seat at the bar, he took a quick swing of his beer and looked at the girl. He wasn't used to the silence of a woman, since his stereotyped mind thought that all women loved to talk; at least the ones that he usually bumped into. It was probably his job to start the conversation, which again he wasn't very used to.  
"So, who are these Nick and Cassie guys?" he asked out of curiosity, "friends or something?" yes, that is what he called a conversation starter.  
Nicole had mentioned the names numerous times and he was naturally curious on who they were. Just a small curiosity. At the most he thought they were probably family members or something. Little did he know the Nick and Cassie she was referring to were the Rogues, which wouldn't be a good thing. How he would react to seeing their faces was unknown.

"Yeah, they are good friends of mine. If you want, since you seem so curious..." She took a sip of her beer," you can meet them. I mean they are very nice people."

His shoulder shrugged with a bit of disregard care. What would it hurt to meet a few more people? It was called distraction after all. And besides, Dally didn't really have much of a social life other than being a womanizer, but that detail could be left to the side. Recently he'd been working on his manners, which ended up being a good thing, "Sure," he said, "why not. Nice people are good." He smiled.

Nicole picked up the beer bottle and took a big gulp this time. _Shoot, I think I said too much!_ she cried out in her thoughts. _Change the subject, change the subject_. "So uh... What do you like to do on your free time?" she said taking another gulp of her beer, which was now half empty.

When she spoke again, he noticed a tense tone in her voice as if she was trying to alternate the upcoming subject with her friends. But Dally didn't really mind at all. His shoulders shrugged again. "Drink, work, you know, big manly stuff" he grinned at her, "and buying cute girls drinks." He chuckled and took a quick swing of his alcoholic beverage before setting it back down on the counter, "you come here often?" he asked.

_Oh darn, he wants to meet them. I don't know what ability he may have or of he is even a physic!_ she thought. _Oh well, he probably doesn't know them anyway._  
"Uh, no," she then giggled," but how can you possibly refuse a guy who wants to buy a cute girl a drink?" She took another sip of beer and then held it up. "Thanks."

He downed the rest and smirked, "So, do you think the guy is adorable?" he teased. Dally had a really odd choice of words, but if it made girls giggle it was obviously working, right? The girl was an easy one to read, and each time she became tense, Dally wondered if it was something he was doing, or if it was something else. Never did he want to make anybody feel uncomfortable; especially women. He had this sense of mannerism when it came to the comfort of females. It was second nature to him. "So, when were your friends supposed to get here? Are they late, or are you just early?" he asked out of sheer curiosity yet again.

"Well, actually, you are being a bit adorable." She giggled. "And actually, I was supposed to meet them soon. But I kinda got lost."  
Concentrating now, she forgot to scan the area for any people who worked for division. At least she could identify most of them. She looked around quickly as Dallas drank some of his beer. "I think I should go soon though," she said.

He smiled triumphantly when she had reversed his compliment calling him cute. His head tilted to the side, "Got lost?" he asked and before he could say anything he spotted her look around the bar with piercing eyes. And for some reason he got the idea that she obtained a power of her own, but he was unlikely the one to confront her about it because if he did, he would be putting his own power at stake, which would not be a good thing since the sheer reason of staying in London was to keep low. And then with that idea, he instinctively thought about Cassie and Nick and wondered if they were the Rogues. He wondered if she was acquainted with them. Before he knew it, he was lost in his own world but it broke when Nicole's said she should go. "Oh, well, I'll see you around then?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, but I seriously gotta meet up with Nick and Cassie. I'm sorry. And thank you so much for the drink. I had a fun time." she sat up and headed towards the door. Then before she knew what she was doing, she turned back, leaned towards Dallas and gave him a peck on the lips. She giggled and waved goodbye as she headed for the exit.

Thoughts now ran through her head. She didn't want to leave, she wanted to stay and be there with him. She regretted not talking very freely to him, she was always in thought, and that was a problem she had. Why couldn't she just say whatever was on her mind? Well that wouldn't be good either, he would've known she was a Mover if she'd been that open. Who knows what reaction he would have.  
_I can't believe I just kissed him, too!_ she thought. _I had no right to kiss a guy I just met._ But it felt good, though, for she has been out of contact from other people for so long, staying low. Yet it was hard for her to stay out of Divisions sight. She often used her powers against anyone who touched her when she was off guard, so she was almost always on the move.  
She sighed. She then stepped out the bar's door and scanned the area, which was clear. She turned around to look at Dallas one more time, for they might never meet again.

------

To say it had been a long day would have been the understatement of the year. Drake had, at Ellie's request, Pushed her parents into letting them (or Ellie, rather) stay up late. With a mere thought, Drake had single-handedly abolished her bedtime rule. It's almost cheating to use a Push, but Ellie really wanted to stay up with him. Drake had no bedtime; even though he attended the local high school, he was allowed to stay up till midnight, only because he proved that he can do so without letting his grades slip. As for Ellie, apparently her parents weren't as trustworthy with her as they were with the American exchange student.  
Still, Drake was tired, and rightly so. Ellie had just turned fifteen recently, and he still hadn't gotten enough sleep after her party. Ellie's friends... God they were annoying! All the giggling, and that one friend, that irritating Alicia, she wouldn't stop hitting on him... he had to Push her to make her leave him alone. Coincidentally, that was how Ellie found out that Drake was a Pusher, too.  
The condo they lived in was a decent size. It had three bedrooms, but the parents insisted that the third bedroom remain a private office for Ellie's dad, who used it for God-knows-what. So, Drake was stuck sharing a room with Ellie; not that he minded. Sure, they had to take turns changing clothes while one of them stayed out in the hallway, and sure, he gets annoyed at Ellie stealing his cigarettes (even though he could easily be 'given' a new pack from the convenience store down the street), but it was nice having the company. She was fairly intelligent herself, and made a good homework partner.  
Drake had smoked his last cigarette that day, and thanks to Ellie's Stitching, he didn't need to worry about suffering lung damage. He was laying on the bottom bunk of their bunkbed, propped up on a pillow against the wall, his finished homework laying on top of his bookbag next to the bed. Ellie was probably still finishing her dinner right about now, which Drake had eaten quickly; he always finished dinner early. He was in his pajamas, which were a pair of sleeping pants and a dull, faded T-shirt that hung loosely around his skinny frame. The television was off, though the channel was probably still set to Ellie's favorite show. He didn't even bother to learn what that show was called, but he tolerated it, simply because Ellie liked it.  
As Drake finished his glass of Coke Zero, he propped back against the pillow, and closed down his laptop. He promised that he'd hang out with Ellie, despite how tired he was.

Ellie was finished with her dinner and put her dishes in the dishwasher. She was excited, Drake had FINALLY pushed her parent's into not giving her a bed time. She got to stay up, however late she wanted. Never mind that the only reason she wanted to stay up was to be with Drake. Never mind that he wouldn't know her feelings if she upright hit him in the face.  
She walked into their bedroom and shut the door behind her, catching him just in time to see him close his laptop.  
"Hey," she says to him. "So what are we going to do with my newfound freedom?"

Drake was glad to finally be alone with her. As she closed the door, he smiled, and stretched his legs out. "Well, that one show you like is on in five minutes..." he said hesitantly, trying his best to hide the fact that he found that show annoying. They had rented movies the other day, making it that much easier for him to avoid having to watch that dumbass show she enjoyed so much.  
"It's really up to you. I promised that I would hang out with you tonight, so you choose." He smiled, scooting over on the bed. There was another pillow there for her. Drake had even Pushed the convenience store owner into giving them a full 16-pack full of nonalcoholic drinks, since Ellie's parents would kill her if she was caught drinking anything with alcohol in it. Besides... he'd hate to see her drunk. She was weird enough sober.

Ellie walked over to the bunk bed and jumped onto it, laying down on the pillow. "Well what movies did you get? It's a rerun tonight, so I don't have to watch." She smiled at him.  
She leaned over and grabbed a soda The sodas were a little shaken though, and when she opened it, the soda fizzed and she had to slurp the excess from the top.  
"Whoops."

As she leaned across him, Drake sighed. It felt good, having her body against his, but he didn't read too much into it; she wanted the movies. He had gotten a bit of everything, since he wasn't sure what she liked; he had one of the Saw movies, a romance-comedy, a crime drama, and one of the Die Hard movies. It all depended on what she was into, and it didn't matter one way or another to him. He would sit through anything, simply because she wanted him too. And the soda would keep him up.  
As she took the movies, he handed her the DVD remote, as well as the TV remote. He quickly and subtly Pushed her parents into taking a deep sleep tonight, so they wouldn't bother the two. Nothing short of fireworks or a severe thunderstorm would wake them up tonight.

Ellie sighed. Would he ever feel the way she felt? She leaned into him and whispered in his ear, "Let's watch a scary movie." She giggled.

A scary movie? That was unexpected. "Okay." he said, as he carefully slipped out from under her, Saw II in his hand, and slipped the movie into the TV's built-in DVD player. He turned the DVD on with the remote, and laid down next to her again. The grotesque beginning of the movie showing the man with the thing that would crush his skill began to show on the TV, and Drake turned to Ellie. "You're sure you want to watch this?" he said, worried that she'd get too freaked out. Saw was a very gory movie, to say the least.

Ellie was a little squeamish, but she wanted an excuse to be close to him so she just nodded her head.  
After a while, the movie was getting very grotesque and Ellie was getting scared. Just as another person got tortured, Ellie let out a squeal and hid her face in Drake's shoulder. She was immediately calmer, soothed by the softness of his shirt. She loved the way he smelled, very natural and a little musky. She loved everything about him.

Drake sighed. Just what he was worried about, she got scared. But, as she buried her face in his shirt - honestly, who does that and is seriously scared during a movie? - he decided to humor her, and turn off the movie.  
"Alright... fine. Let's watch House, then." He turned on the satellite channel to one of the American station, where Dr. House was berating Foreman for doing the wrong test on a patient. Strangely, though, he didn't want her to move her face out of his side. It felt good... and almost even aroused him.

Ellie laughed and turned her head a little to watch the show, but she didn't move her head, comfortable where she was.  
"You know, you make a pretty good pillow."

Drake blinked at this, but made no effort to make her move. Of course, being a critical thinker, he wondered why someone as bony and skinny as him would be comfortable to lay on, but quickly dismissed this thought. She was flirting with him, quite blatantly. And he didn't even Push her into it. She was... doing this by herself, and there was no chance of her parents walking in on them. "Umm... thanks, I think," he said, adjusting himself so that he would be more comfortable.

Ellie laughed. "I'm trying to give you a compliment."

Drake laughed as well, his arm inadvertently moving to make room for her body. He enjoyed having her here... it felt... nice.  
"Alright... I believe you," he said quietly, as the show cut to commercial. He then did something he didn't expect; as if his arm had a mind of its own, it wrapped around her body, pulling her in closer to him. And God, he hoped she didn't notice his arousal.

Ellie smiled, he was pulling her closer to him. She really had no justification for what she was doing, but she snuggled closer to him.

Was she really...? Yes, she was. He had no idea that his arm was around her until she was closer, and now... yes.  
"Ellie?" he asked, his thumb stroking the area between her shoulder blade and her spine. "Does this mean... you..." he said quietly, looking down at her, ignoring the fact that the show was now back from commercial. He wasn't sure how to word this... he might either end up sounding stupid, or worse.

Ellie looked up at him. "What? What are you saying? I... I.. yes." she blushed a little.

So... she did like him, just as he liked her. And he didn't even need to Push her. But... maybe he would now. She might be too nervous to do it otherwise, so he would. His pupils dilated, and he whispered two very short, yet meaningful words: "Kiss me."

Ellie felt the push, but she didn't mind. She leaned in and kissed him softly.

A moment he had been waiting for since he had moved in with them. He turned on his side, his body completely parallel to hers, and leaned into her, kissing her deeply. He wondered if this was her first kiss, but he doubted it; a girl as beautiful as her surely has kissed someone before. With his arm around her waist, he indulged in the kiss he had been waiting for ever since he had first laid eyes on her. It was truly worth the wait.

Ellie kissed him back, happy that this was finally happening. She pushed herself closer to him. As Drake, kissed her, he reached over and shut off the light. They wouldn't do anything more than this... these things should never be rushed, despite how badly Drake wanted to. He wanted this to be special, a real relationship, and not purely physical.  
As he kissed her, he pulled her closer to him. This would be kept up most of the night, until they lay down next to each other and fell asleep in each other's arms.

------

**Jamesthestitch writes:**

You know what is the worst part about being a Stitch? You can't stitch yourself. Ow. I hit a roadblock, otherwise known as some punk Division Bleeder. I had issues getting to him to bring him down but Victor sure helped. I feel bad that I had to miss my meeting with Nick just because of that louse. Now my head hurts....

------

Coffee shops were great places. They always had those free boards you could tack things up to, and they never really cared what you posted up their, as long as it wasn't blatantly illegal and didn't have cursing or pornography on it. Ben Shetfield walked in with his ratty, gray duffel bag slung over his shoulder, the bell on top of the door ringing loudly to alert everyone of his entrance. He walked up to the corkboard, digging through his bag and pulling out a flyer. He took a pushpin from another advertisement, using it to stick his up.  
'DOCTOR BENJAMIN  
HEAL ALL OF YOUR ILLS AND PAINS  
FOR CHEAP  
NO QUESTIONS ASKED-  
CONTACT AT: 555 9000'  
He looked at the flyer with a satisfied smile, before turning and taking a seat near the window. He dropped his duffel bag in the empty seat opposite of his, just people watching; he really didn't have enough money to buy a cup of coffee, and it was much more interesting just watching people through the window or listening to girls scream at what sounded like their abusive boyfriends as the lady in the table in front of him was doing.

James dialed Drake's number irritatedly as the waitress placed her coffee in front of her and Victor watched the bustle of early morning London. She was pissed off and those around her knew it. She waited for Drake to answer and when he did, she blurted out angrily, "When the Hell did you Push me?"

James growled in frustration when she realized that Drake hadn't answered his phone, it was just his voice mail. With an angry sigh, she shut her phone and shoved it in her pocket and sat back and crossed her arms. Victor smirked at her and stood, taking her cup with him. He went to the counter and ordered her something. James was struck by how Victor could be a total ass one second and a coffee fetcher the next. Smiling to herself, James looked around the coffee shop, which was nearly empty, and settled on watching a scrawny kid with a beat up bag.

Ben's eyes wandered idly, watching a rough looking man stand up from the table the girl was talking on the phone and go over to the counter, more than likely to order some more coffee. So, who was that on the phone, and who was with her? Some sort of contorted love triangle?  
He glanced over at her again, and their eyes met; his grey ones flashed, then narrowed, almost immediately noticing the cut above her eye, the dull bluish-black bruise that decorated her jaw. It didn't take much for him to stand up, slinging the duffel bag over his shoulder and walking over to her.  
"Hey, there." He grinned, looking down at the girl, one hand hooked into the belt loops of his ratty jeans. "Can't help but noticing that you got some marks on your pretty face. Shame, you know." He pulled out the chair across from her, sitting down and plopping his bag down on the ground next to him. Ben leaned forward on his elbows, all smiles and grins. "I could fix that- I'm a _doctor_." He raised his eyebrows. "I can make the marks go away, both of 'em."

"Charm doesn't work on me, mister," James drawled at the scrawny guy who so daringly approached her. "And I don't need a doctor," James brushed her hair away from her forehead and flinched when her hand brushed the cut. At his look of disbelief she rephrased. "I don't need your expertise," James flicked her hand at him. "Now shoo."

Ben chuckled, shrugging his shoulder. "Really? It looks painful." The dismissive wave did not work on Ben. It only drove him forward; he suddenly reached out, pressing his thumb against the small cut above her eye. He knew it wasn't too big, and a small cut like that wouldn't hurt too much to heal. His grey eyes flashed, and he pulled away, settling back in his seat. The mark was gone, her skin back to it's old unmarred self.  
He gave her a cocky grin, full of teeth and pride. "Give me twenty-five bucks for a cup of coffee and a nice meal and I'll take away the bruise, yeah?"

James crossed her arms, the sensation of a stitch still tingling above her eye. "Or you could leave now before I implode your stomach."

Ben's lip curled back in a look of disgust. "Fine, see if I care if that bruise lasts forever," He snarled, suddenly shoving himself up from the table, the chair grinding loudly against the floor as he pushed it back. "Bitch." He grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and heading for the door.

James smirked at the retreating form and with a twitch of her fingers, she made the muscles in his legs freeze where they were. Victor set her refilled coffee on the table and she jerked her head towards the confused Ben. "Bring him back over here," Victor nodded and just as he reached the Stitch, James paralyzed Ben from the waist down and froze his upper body. Victor set the man down in a chair across from James and pulled up another.  
"So." James leaned forward and leaned on the table, clasping her hands in front of her. "From one Stitch to another, you need a personality adjustment. Oh, and a piece of advice, it is not a smart thing to piss off the person who could kill without breaking a sweat."

Ben grinned right in her face. "A personality adjustment? I wasn't the one who so rudely turned down just a simple salesman. Didn't your mother teach you manners? You seem like the sort of girl who yells at poor telemarketers because they accidentally call during dinner."  
While his legs were paralyzed, his upper body was not, and he leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Really, now- you're a stitch, though? That's interesting. So what does the beast here do?" He jerked his thumb over to Victor. "Paralyzing from the waist down- without touch- that's pretty nice. I'm thinking your man friend did that, but if you did, kudos. That's quite advanced. To be honest, I'm not much of a aggressive stitch. I heal better than I hurt. I'm just a nice guy like that." He shrugs, his smile lopsided, before leaning back in his chair.

"I don't have a mother, and you were the one who violated my personal space." James was smirking. "You're pretty cocky for a guy who could be dead in five minutes," James said, looking at Victor, who appeared positively gleeful. "And the beast is a Mover, my own personal henchman you might say." James sipped her coffee and surveyed him. "You can heal but can you raise people from the dead?" Victor shot her a look of annoyance.

"Nah," Ben shrugged, smirking. "I'm not really into necrophilia. I like 'em live and responding, yeah?" He glanced over at Victor, raising an eyebrow. "He looks like he was recently dead. Or did he come looking like that?"  
He rested his hands on his knees, pressing his palms flat against his legs. His eyes fluttered closed, fingers curled, and he let out a short laugh, his eyes flickering open. Ben gave her a triumphant, smug look as he suddenly leaned back in his chair, using his now mobile legs to stretch out. "So... you gettin' me a cup of coffee?" he asked, nodding towards her cup.

"No, I'm not getting you a cup of coffee." James was smiling now. This guy had a sense of humor. "But I will give you something else. You're new around here, so you don't know what a screw up your current MO is, so I'm offering my help in return for this bruise disappearing."

"I'd rather have the coffee." Ben lamented, leaning back and dramatically throwing a hand over his forehead in a faux faint. "But if you want to tell me some ways to improve myself, go ahead. I was in that business once, you know. I'm a doctor of all sorts. I got paid pretty bangin' for being a 'psychologist', and it didn't hurt that I managed to make all of their aches go away too. Suckers believe anything." He babbled, talking with his hands, a wide grin on his face. "You'd be good in the business. Yeah, having a chick always helps, because then you get the skeazers in, and they're usually the businessmen with too much money on them."

"Fine then," James shrugged. "My name is Jame,s by the way. If Division catches you, do not count on my help. Advertising like you do will lead them to your doorstep so I hope to God you have a back up plan," James was studying Ben now with a cool curiosity. "If you used to do all these things and got paid well for, then why are you here starting from scratch with no home, money, or support system? I thought con-men were supposed to be intelligent." James stood up and began to pull on her coat. Reaching into her purse, she grabbed a pen and a napkin and scribbled something down on it.  
Holding it out to Ben, James said somewhat hesitantly, "This is my phone number; call me if you get yourself in a situation that you can get out of. But don't call me if Division is practically up your ass." Ben took the napkin with his usual confidence. "And would you call me if you run into a couple guys? One's an elitist Sniff, the other is an Bleeder, kinda funny looking," As she made her way out of the door with Victor following, she shot over her shoulder, "And the next time you try to mooch coffee off of me, you're losing one of your testicles."

"I'm Ben." He said, arching an eyebrow cockily. "Yeah- America doesn't have such a big Division problem, just a big _cop_ one, see? And 'course, I can see if I can find these guys." He said with a nod, taking the paper from her fingers and watching her go over his shoulder.  
"My testicle! But, James... that'd be my last one!" Ben jeered after her, grinning and glancing at the number. Well, oho, look at that- he got paralyzed from the legs down, dragged to a table, nearly beaten up by a zombie, did not get a cup of coffee… and yet, he still got a girl's number. "Dr. Benjamin, you are a smooth motherfucker," he murmured under his breath, grinning and laughing, kicking his boots up onto the table.

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**Ohdally writes:**

The music today disgusts me. I can't turn on the radio without hearing 'Yung' Joc…or Lil Wayne… I mean, since when is it cool to be little and young? Back in my day, we all wanted to be strong fit guys. Not little. This generation is confusing…or I think it's just me stuck in the past. But what happened to Guns N Roses? Kansas? And all that amazing old school rock? Now it's just everyone talking about how pimp they are…whatever the hell that's supposed to mean.

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**"What exactly is the problem? From what I recall, last time we hooked up you had a better time than me, if the noises you were making were anything to go by. Let's not let a little thing like me taking a rummage in your brother's drawers get between us...it's not like I knew it at the time...although come to think of it the family wails were quite similar...it should have been a dead giveaway."**, and these were the last words that could be heard pouring out of Kale's devilish little mouth before the severe pocketing of air snapped through the atmosphere as he was abruptly slapped by a very attractive and even more appalled young blonde woman, who also gave his face the remainder of her drink before she stormed out of The Sly Fox, a dimly lit and nicely decorated bar in central London which attracted a clientelle that could have been described as lower-middle class.  
As a number of onlookers eyed Kale for his response, they didn't find anything to be expected; no flinching, no provoked aggression, no social unease or discomfort. Instead, the handsome and mischeivous psychic held a less than bothered expression, his eyes even lighting up as he licked at the sweet white wine that had now ran uninvited over his lips, as well as the rest of most of his face, a naughty smirk forming thereafter. He looked around at whatever audience still eyed him, proud of the display that had come to a head simply because of his deviance and audacity. Kale didn't even need to shrug it off, instead he simply pulled at the neck of his frosted beer bottle and swigged calmly at the amber nectar that rested within it. It was not long after this point that his gazes were drawn to a somewhat familiar face, which fortunately was more than just satisfying to look at.  
**"Oh you again...haven't seen you in a while. Drinking alone?"**, he asked his acqaintance with bright, intrusive eyes, no shame or thought at all spared to the fact that Dallas had probably witnessed what had just happened between Kale and the woman who had made a fast exit from the venue. The older psychic was also very attractive in a somewhat more refined and ironically relaxed manner, and for the lucky aesthetics of his genetics alone, Kale's eyes couldn't help but harmfully flirt with his.  
Dallas had to admit, the younger male's voice was easy to spot and his previous conversation with the woman was made clear and audible. Not that he was eavesdropping… it was more like taking in his surroundings. An amused smirk twitched to his lips hearing the words of Kale and shook his head almost fondly at it. He and the other man had actually bumped into each other a lot, and looking at him Kale reminded Dallas of himself. When he came over and asked the question, his shoulders shrugged, "Not anymore" he grinned before taking a swing of his beer.  
As sharp as he was at times, Dallas was surprisingly totally oblivious to Kale's sexuality and didn't know that some of the things he said were considered 'flirting'. His head gestured briefly over his shoulder, "So, you broke another heart, you heart breaker you," he teased.

Kale didn't usually pay much mind to who other people were to him, he usually didn't keep anyone in his life long enough to realise such thoughts, but if he were beng honest, Dallas was right up his alley, so to speak. He was a guy Kale could enjoy hanging with and even respect, which was both unusual because not many people were quite so favourable to Kale in general, and also because given that the two had quite vivid personalities, them being able to get along would be largely unexpected; technically the pair should have naturally clashed. Banter aside though, the two had always gotten along without taking serious offense to one another, at least when they had been in each others company, which had been a good number of times now.

"I wouldn't go that far...but I've put her off men for at least the rest of the year." Kale smirked slightly, proud of his handiwork, although he had meant the woman no hardship; it just amused him that without even having to be aware of it, he always ended up the patriarch of some outrageous social controversy or other.  
"So what brings you out tonight? If I didn't know better I wouldn't have to ask that question, but it's not like you can't pull women if that's what you're looking for. So since you're flying solo...I'm thinking you must have other things on your mind?", British women were often wooed by an American accent, especially when it came from a pretty mouth; if Dallas wasn't with a woman then it was on one hand, out of decision, and on the other, very atypical behavior. Kale wondered what was on the Mover's mind.  
"By the way, you're looking good." Kale grinned in a way that seemed half-playful, half-daring, letting more of the cool beer wash over the back of his throat after he'd finished speaking.

His shoulders shrugged when Kale had asked the question. If he was to be honest, he would be talking about how it sucked ass how he couldn't keep in touch with his family and how he hated the fact that he had to work as a garbage man. It wasn't the most appealing job and he wanted more to be frank. But, not wanting to do a whole sob story thing, he let out a slight chuckle which didn't come out with so much ease as it should; but his voice ridded away the true melancholy vibe, "Nah, just here looking for some eye candy. You know how much I like my eye candy," he joked easily taking another swing of his beer.  
Dally threw Kale a grin, "I always look good, sweetheart, and you're looking pretty adorable yourself," he teased; but little did he know about what he was saying. He genuinely thought that those comments were just plain fun jokes.

Kale didn't buy it, and given that he'd already explained to Dallas his reasonably sound theory that if he were looking for women, there'd be one with him already, Kale found it to be somewhat insulting to his intelligence to insist otherwise. Then again, Kale in general was often offended when others saw him only as the cocky, pretty boy...he was a cocky pretty boy, but he was also smart, and sharp with it.  
"I know that when it comes to looking, you'd rather touch...and like I just said, you're not touching anyone." Kale made his point clear one last time, but he wouldn't take it any further...if Dallas wanted to act like Kale didn't know better, so be it.  
"Sweetheart, is it? And just when we were starting to get along..." Kale reminded Dallas not to get too comfortable with being sassy towards him, some disguised insults were just far too fluffy for him to let fly by, "...you're right though, I am quite adorable, for a nightmare."

Adorable for a nightmare; Dallas rolled his eyes fondly and let out a small chuckle before downing the rest of his beer only to order another one. Thank God for his high tolerance, if he had none he would most likely be bouncing all over the place… or tripping to be more exact. His elbows prompt on the counter before letting out an exasperated sigh. Sometimes he forgot how smart the boy was; and how he could really suck at lying. Shrugging his shoulders, he quickly thought of something to say to avoid the horrible conversation about his home, past and blah, blah, blah.  
"So, anything interesting happen lately?" he asked, stirring the ice with his drink instinctually. Dallas should really stop doing that; that's the reason why Kale had figured out about his powers in the first place.

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**Stitchbenup writes:**

Oh, Christ. I just ran out of hairgel. Damnit. I need to find a place to stay- and some money. It's irritating not to know anybody in a whole entire continent, much less a country. Nobody to borrow money from, no place to crash. The benches in the train stations are pretty fucking hard, if you ask me. I've been here before, yeah- but it's not nice after having been in a 200K loft in New York City. I don't know the underground here. And I can't blend in like I did at home - here, I have an accent. Everybody notices the 'American boy with the hair'.

Except I have no more hairgel, so I'll just be that 'American Boy'.  
God damnit.

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	5. March 8th

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Jason held the small flyer in his hand, staring down at the words "All wounds stitched free of charge". He shook his head again, feeling foolish for having even payed attention to it in the first place. He was going on this whole fools-errand because he believed that this was some poor young Stitcher who just didn't know that advertising their abilities was a bad idea; and for some reason he'd decided that it was his job to inform them of such a horrible mistake.  
He crumpled the paper up, shoving it into his pocket as he let his eyes scan the station, and then a nearby hallway. Ducking out of sight he reached his hand around to his back, closing his eyes for a moment of concentration. The skin surrounding his shoulder itched for a moment as it changed shape to that of an open wound, and the shirt around his shoulder was partially covered by a large bandage. Opening his eyes he gave his shoulder a single rotation, testing how far he could move his arm without giving away the fact that there wasn't really a wound under there. He inspected his work in the reflective surface of an advertisement before heading back into the station.  
He'd called ahead to the number on the sheet, and was told to meet here. At least the kid wasn't dumb enough to have them meet in a private location first.

So finally, he got a call. Ben wasn't used to waiting- he used to be in hot demand, the cream of the crop back home. 'Oh Dr. Ben, heal us!' 'Oh Dr. Ben, I was shanked, help me!' 'Oh Dr. Ben, I got capped, save me!' Here in London he was nobody; or maybe, just nobody was in as much trouble, so he far less people calling in.  
This guy sounded promising. A shoulder wound, which he had tried to keep under control himself but had been becoming more painful and was in sore need of medical attention. Injuries like this were always the most profitable because people were more easily convinced into subscriptions for bogus pills so nothing would get infected. And he needed the cash like nothing else.  
His boots clipped sharp against the ground, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder as he walked towards the meeting spot. He spotted the man standing there, a bandage over his shoulder, and Ben's face widened into a grin as he walked towards him. "Hello! I'm Doctor Benjamin-" He was quick to grab Jason's hand and shake it, his eyes flashing from his face to stare intently on his wound, trying to size up how much power he'd have to put into it. "I presume you were the one who called me, yeah? Give me a price and I will give you back a fixed limb. Good deal, huh?"

Jason let his eyes carefully run across Ben's body as he approached. The guy looked confident enough, but that wasn't proof of anything really; there were lots of Psychics that looked confident, right up until Division shoved a tube in their arm and knocked them on their asses. Putting on the most convincing face he could manage, Jason got ready to give his little 'performance' for this guy.  
"Yeah sure man, whatever." Jason reached into his pocket with his 'good' hand, quickly shifting a film canister into a roll of fifties, before pulling it out just far enough for Ben to see it; then it was shoved out of sight before this 'Doctor' would have a chance to grab for it. "Now where are we going to do this?" Hopefully this guy wasn't dumb enough to do the healing right here in the train station where there was always a chance of someone seeing. That, and it wouldn't do for the Stitcher to realize this wasn't a real wound too early, otherwise he'd probably just take off.

Ben's eyes lit up at the sight of the money, and he smiled. "Yeah, 'course. Follow me." He strode down a nearby hallway, glancing over his shoulder. "We're going to the men's restroom- or, WVC, whatever the hell they call it here." Ben clarified, making his way through the grimy train station. It didn't take long until they were at the bathroom, with Ben pushing his way through the door. It smelled rank, and he wrinkled his nose but didn't comment.  
"Alright..." He glanced around, before setting down his duffel bag on the floor and taking a step forward towards Jason, rolling up his sleeves. "Now, I'm just going to put my hands on the bandages, right, and get a feel for what's really ailing you- but the real way to fix you up is the pills I'm gonna give you after, alright?" Ben lied with a charming smile, stretching out his long fingers before pressing them lightly on his shoulder tenderly. "It might hurt a bit- but I'm not breaking anything again, don't worry. It's just a little trade secret of doctors, getting the feel, but it'll make you feel better. Ready?"

Well, that was all Jason needed to hear; the kid was definitely a Stitcher and definitely dumb enough to be healing people for money. And really, he didn't need Ben trying to bolt when he realized the wound was fake. He slowly shook his head as his face cleared of any signs of pain, his back straightening up more than he would've been able to do if the injury had been real. "That won't really be necessary." Stepping quickly around Ben, he placed his hand against the door, instantly shifting into a solid wall, blocking anyone from entering or from _leaving_.  
"Wow, kid, I can not believe that you are so crazy as to just publicly put yourself on display like this." Jason let out an incredulous laugh, his hand reaching up to his shirt removing the shifting he'd done before as the shirt loosened, unrestricted by the bandages. "I mean, I've heard of other Psychics using their abilities to get a little money on the side, I'll even admit that I do it, but I sure as hell don't put flyers out about myself." He pulled the paper from his pocket, dropping it onto the counter.

Ben jumped back like he had been bitten. Almost immediately, he had a pocketknife in his hands, giving Jason a nervous, flighty look. "Yeah? So I'm a fucking stitch. What are you, division?" He let out a short, soft cough, his chest shuddering.  
"So, what's this about?" he asked, keeping his distance but looking ready to grab Jason at a moment's notice. Every few words, he would cough. "Look, I'm not trying to make any trouble here. None of my patients think it's some power, I have sugar pills that 'do the job', so to speak. I don't have any money, and I can earn some cash this way, yeah? I'm just trying to get enough so I can get off the street." That was another lie, but he would tell the man that he sold unicorns if it made him let him out of the train station bathroom from hell.

"Oh really, just trying to get off the streets huh?" Jason's eyes carelessly passed between Ben and the knife in his hand, a look of amusement gracing his face. "Maybe you haven't heard, but Division has a lot of uses for guys like you. They like to put you in rooms where they bring in progressively more and more injured patients, see how close to death you can pull them back from. And if one of the patients dies on your table, they have one of their more loyal Stitchers break every bone in your body, and let you lay there in pain for hours before they have the same man put you back together."  
Picking up the piece of paper that had served as Ben's advertisement, Jason rolled it into a tube, bending it in the middle. "And tell me, _Doctor Benjamin_ exactly what would you do if I did turn out to be Division?" His eyes flitted back to the knife as he formed a crease where he'd folded the tube, then held it up aiming at the other man, "You going to try to stab me and run out the non-existent door?" The paper suddenly shifted, taking on a nice metallic color, before changing into a fully formed gun. "A shifter never comes unarmed to a fight. "So it seems like your options are either, hope to grab me or stab me before I put a round through your chest, or put down the knife and we can talk this out like men instead of animals." Jason really had no interest in shooting Ben, but he didn't really like the idea of getting stabbed. But he wasn't going to be the one to back down, where was the lesson in that?

"Let Division take me to be their doctor, then," Ben sneered at the man, his lip curling back. "I haven't lost a patient yet. They don't call me Doctor for nothin'. If Division would pay me, sure, I'd be their doctor…" Every man had his price. Ben was relatively cheap compared to most everyday heroes who would not turn over to the 'dark side' for life nor limb. "And, besides…" Ben drawled, walking up to Jason slowly, tossing his knife from one hand to the next, letting out light cough. "I know shifters, man. And you can shift things, not pull them out of your ass. That might be a gun you had, but it's not loaded. You haven't shifted anything into a bullet. I'm pretty sure I never taped anything bullet shaped to my fliers." He gave him a smug, proud look, nodding at the gun. He could have grabbed and paralyzed the man by now, but he wasn't really in the mood. He just wanted to get out of this place that reeked of piss and shit and find a nice bench he could take a snooze on, instead of having some self-proclaimed possibly-Division Mother Theresa yell at him for making a living. His eyes made more than a few glances at the wall as he took a few, slow steps forward.  
"I don't put the knife down until the gun is down and you tell me you ain't a Division. And if you're not apart of Division…" He lowered his knife slightly, giving Jason a flat, serious glare, his gray eyes unfaltering. "Then why the hell do you care what I do with my life? Doing some charity cases, now? Save the poor Stitch from himself?"

"And exactly what would you do if you did manage to stab me?" Jason suddenly took a bold step forward, pressing the gun against Ben's head. "Say you're right, and you know so much about Shifters that you _know_ for sure that there aren't any bullets in here, that I didn't just take a torn corner and shift it into a bullet. So you grab me, disable my body, stab me in multiple places, what're you gonna do after that? There's still no door to get out of, which while it'll be inconspicuous for a little while, eventually someone will realize that there used to be a door there, they'll go looking for someone who works here, and when they find no door, they'll go find someone to figure this out. How long do you think it would be before they'd be here with sledgehammers, bashing in the wall to see what happened? And what're you going to tell them when they find my body laying on the ground with stab wounds, and I'm totally paralyzed? Maybe you stab wrong, or in your haste you cut an important vein and I bleed out before you can heal me? Maybe you're not thinking straight and you accidentally sever my spinal column while you're trying to stop me from moving. What'll you tell them if they find you with a dead body?  
"Me on the other hand?" His face turn up in a dark smirk, "If you happen to be wrong, and that piece of paper flies out the end of the gun as a nice sharp piece of steel, cuts into your forehead and you die; well I'll just shift your body back into its whole form, shift the floor so there's no blood visible, prop you up on one of the toilets, reshape the door, and leave. And tonight, when the janitor comes in to clean up the toilets, he'll be in for one hell of a surprise.  
"So tell me little man," Jason reached up, his thumb cocking the gun, "Are you willing to wager your life?" It was of course a bluff, in his haste he had forgotten to put anything in the gun, but whatever, it was working out alright.

Ben gave him a dark look, the only sounds in the echoing bathroom a few nervous coughs from him that made his head move slightly, the gun rubbing irritatingly against his temple. He closed his eyes slowly, sighing. "Little man, huh? It's funny how a gun makes people taller."  
Ben folded his butterfly knife up, sliding it into his pocket before retrieving a beaten pack of cigarettes. He tapped them once, twice against his wrist, before flipping the carton open, plucking one out and sticking one in his mouth. He glanced up at Jason, smirking around it, coughing softly. "I'd offer you one, but I'm on my last." He took out a lighter, flicking it on and lighting his cigarette carefully. With one deep inhale, his nervous coughs had disappeared and he exhaled carefully out of his nose, turning his head so that he wasn't blowing the smoke directly at Jason.  
"Now," Ben said carefully, crossing his arms. "I've gathered a few things from you. You seem like a smart guy, yeah? You know how to act- you're a bluffer. A bull shitter. I'm a bull shitter too. But... I doubt there are any bullets in that gun, and now that I think of it, it's not that likely that you're Division." He smiled, holding up his fingers. "Division usually comes in pairs, at the least, in case of Pushes that like to fuck with people's minds  
"So, that leads me to believe one of a few things; that, A, you are a rogue, maybe, or just a concerned citizen, and have come here to chide me on my haphazard ways of advertisement. B, you're here to mug me, which is a pretty shit plan, if you ask me. Or C, you're some tough guy who's trying to forcefully recruit me for a gang of sorts, maybe?" He shrugged. "I'm no fucking Watcher, but hey, there's only so many reasons why a non-Division would want to lock me in a bathroom."

Jason's expression noticeably softened, a bemused expression taking the place of his false bravado. "Well I'm pretty sure you're only right about one thing," He lowered the gun to Ben's chest, then pulled the trigger, the hammer clicking harmlessly. "The gun isn't loaded." The metal slowly vanished as Jason shifted it back to the paper he'd formed it from. "But you're pretty much wrong about all the rest." He moved back from where he'd be standing, leaning back against the counter. "I don't have loyalty to anyone. I'm not Division, but I don't work against them either. I've been approached by both sides, threatened by both sides, but neither of them have ever been able to push me into doing something I don't want to." He paused for a moment, a chuckle escaping his lips, "I've even managed to escape being _pushed_."  
He snatched up the paper, waving it in front of Ben's face. "This, however, is incredibly stupid. I don't put up signs saying 'Change any face value of your cash, cheap and fast', because although I've managed to escape being pulled into this endless war, I don't need the unnecessary attention.  
"You think that you're so smart when you say that Division can have you as long as they pay; Division doesn't pay anyone that they take by force. They wouldn't have you healing people who actually needed your help, they'd just be experimenting to see how useful you'd actually be. If you turn out to be an amazing Stitch, then they'll just have one of their Pushers convince you that you work for Division, and you'll spend the rest of your life doing whatever they tell you to."  
Jason released the paper, letting it slowly drift down to the floor at Ben's feet. "I came to warn you that wherever you came from, where this might have been okay, it's not okay to do it here. Division will be breathing down your neck in no time." He was actually kind of surprised that they weren't already. "And there is no place worse than one of their holding cells; once you get in there, you'll wish that you were still living on the streets, sleeping in parks."  
Finally, with a huff he turned away, walking back over to where the door had been, returning it to its proper place. "And I'm not a concerned citizen, I'm just someone who knows better than others that Division isn't to be messed with. You fly to close to high, end up on their radar, and you'll be lucky to see the light of day again, or at least without your head scrambled."

The sound of the gun was only met with the arch of an eyebrow and smoke being exhaled through his nose. Well, thank God he was right about the most important thing of them all. He tapped his foot against the floor, watching Jason with idle interest, a smile growing on his face.  
Ben laughed, picking the paper up. "You should, man. 'Counterfeiter extraordinaire, will make all of your family heirlooms, jewels, gold, and etc. all new and improved! Will work only for straight cash'." He held the paper up, almost as if he was imagining the words on the paper, before turning to Jason, his smile faltering. Division hadn't been much of a problem in New York, at least with how deeply nestled he was in the gang scene. Nobody could touch him, psychic or not. Truthfully, the random stranger was spooking him a bit, but Ben had never been one to let anybody, stranger or friend, see through his ever false bravado.  
He shrugged, plucking his cigarette from his lips and exhaling softly. "I wouldn't care, really, if Division picked me up. I ain't that bad at healing- used to be big, before the cops got me. You say that they're worse than the streets, but I'd rather be Pushed and with some shelter then without."  
Ben picked up his duffel bag, slinging it back over his shoulder. "Look, if it makes you feel any better- this is just temporary. Once I find a group that will have need of my talents, or at least make some decent money, I won't be posting fliers in _Starbucks_." He laughed again, shaking his head. "I just need to get back on my feet again, you know? And eventually, people get hurt, and people need a doctor."  
He folded up the advertisement in his hands, sticking it in the front pocket of his button down shirt. "Keep it, yeah? Maybe you'll need it one day. And maybe when you do need to call me, I'll actually have a house to meet in- or, I'll be in a fancier bathroom, at least," Ben added with a laugh.

------

It wasn't uncommon for Division to make surprise visits to those they wanted help from (or those they just wanted to 'check up on'), so all the introduction they needed was the three short knocks on Anna's door, before a soft 'thump' shoved the door past the latch, breaking it in the process. The two then entered the apartment, one with his hands held out in front, prepared for the attack, and the second calmly surveying the space. "Oh, Anna, come out and play." His voice had an annoying sing-song quality to it, making his entrance seem like a welcome exchange. "The Division has some cheese for all its good little mice."

Anna was in her bed; her laptop perched on her lap comfortably. There wasn't much she was doing at the moment, just surfing the web, doing some last minute stuff and such. Her ears perked up hearing someone knock on the door, but as usual she ignored it…until an unlatching sound was made audible. Rolling her eyes, she pushed out of her bed and walked out to find two men in the door way, one looking like he was about to pounce on something. When she heard 'cheese', right away she was interested. Her eyes locked onto the calmer of the two men. "What do you want?" she asked with a gruff tone and flickered her eyes to the male with the fighting stance. "Calm yourself. You look impeccably ridiculous" Her eyes went to the door and groaned, "And you broke my lock...nice. Real nice."

"We did knock," the second man said, as though this completely absolved him of any wrong doings in the first place. He laid his hand on the first man's shoulder, moving past him into the apartment, finding a comfortable place to sit in what he assumed was the living room. "Obviously we've come to discuss business, so please, have a seat." His eyes flickered in other man's direction as he said, "Michael, make yourself useful, go get some tea going." The first man kind-of obeyed, walking away from them, but not towards the kitchen; instead searching the rest of the rooms for any other people.

Her arms crossed over her chest and she rolled those burnished eyes. When Anna was instructed to sit, she did, but reluctantly. Her bottom perched on the side of the couch, her eyes flickering to the man who began to search her place. Yet again, her eyes rolled and looked unconcerned. It wasn't like she had anything to hide other than her laptop, and the thing was locked and zipped shut tight. No one would be able to open it; she was a wiz at the technology shit.  
She crossed her legs and rested back against the couch, staring at the Division man before her and let out an exasperated sigh. "What is it?"

The man seemed unfazed by her attitude towards his presence, having felt that sort of disapproving glare before. "Six months ago Division was informed of the disappearance of three psychics from the Americas. However at the time we didn't feel this was an issue that required our attention, and it was carelessly dismissed." He reached into his pocket, retrieving an envelope that contained the names, pictures, and SSNs of Cassie, Nick, and Kira. "However in recently it came to our attention that they have surfaced here in the UK. We need them found, ASAP."  
The second man suddenly returned, taking up his position behind his partner. The first man was, however, unperturbed by this, adding, "You shall receive the normal compensation for your assistance upon completion of this assignment. As usual it will be deposited to your bank account under a false name exactly thirty-one hours after we are satisfied with the results."

Anna had a good feeling on the "who's" he was referring to and took the folder he had whipped out, skimmed through it briefly. The Rogues; she had heard of them before. It was hard not to since it was the incitement of today's gossip, "Didn't feel it was an issue, huh?" she echoed and then from the files blinked upwards to him before setting her attention back onto the files, "So then, the combination of the strongest Pusher and the offspring of the strongest Physics wasn't an issue?" she handed him back the files letting out a sigh through her lips, "I heard Division was strong, but I didn't think it was the brightest out of the bunch," she commented, mostly to herself.  
"You just want me to _find_ them?" If that was the case, they didn't understand her true abilities with technology. Anna could not only track people down; she could get unauthorized files, their Blog, their past relations, she could even get the last sandwich they ate, "I'm not just some technological Sniffer, you know," she retorted as if offended by the idea. It was made visible she was proud of her little talent.

The first man waved his hand dismissively as if this didn't matter. "You are whatever we want you to be, Anna. The Division has not been working unaware of your association with those who work contrary to our motions, nor does it escape us that your motives for everything are entirely selfish. Thus far we have not taken any actions to prevent you from doing just that; we feel that as long as you are useful to us, and do not interrupt our operations, then it does not matter what you do with the rest of your time." He leaned forward in his chair, his eyes acquiring a very dangerous look, "But that could all change at any time."  
The second man touched his shoulder, and he immediately rose from his chair, pulling leather gloves over his hands as he headed towards the door. "There is a business card in the envelope with a number. Once you have information that will assist us in our search, dial that number. It doesn't actually reach anyone, but it will alert us when called; simply hang up, and an agent will be at your house in under an hour." They turned, leaving the apartment, a simple "Good day, Anna" tossed carelessly over their shoulder as they departed.

------

Anna walked into the coffee shop, looking around to see nobody in sight. She had a good idea on what Nick looked like… she looked up his file moments after they agreed to meet up. While she didn't see the familiar face, she ordered herself a cup of coffee and sat at a secluded table turning up her laptop and plugging it into an outlet. There wasn't much to explain why she didn't come with a complaint; she was getting paid for this. This is what she did; other than work at a local diner.  
Her slim fingers attached themselves onto the whole coffee mug and placed it to her lips, taking a quick sip before setting it down on the cardboard coaster. Her back arched up into a brief stretch before leaning onto the chair waiting for Nick.

Nick entered the coffee shop and, looking around, decided the only person in the place who had a laptop must be the one he was looking for. "Hey," he said, sitting at her table. "I'm Nick."

"Don't worry, I know who you are" she retorted blankly. Her eyes didn't even flicker up while she began to finish a few touches of swift typing on her laptop. After a few seconds, her middle finger tapped on the 'enter' key and that was when she closed her laptop to finally look at the man before her.  
Her head gestured to the open seat in front of her. "So, what's the name of your little stalker?" she asked. Leave it to Anna to get right into business.

"That's what I need you to find out," Nick explained. "This guy's been leaving comments on my blog... His IP address is . Can you track that for me and figure out who he is? If you could find out his location too, that would be awesome."  
He looked at the list of offerings on the wall. Maybe later he would order one of the lattes.

Her eyes looked at him, amusement rushing through her face. Finding the identity of a mere IP Address? Easy, but not free. Her back leaned back against her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, "One fifty" she retorted to him. One hundred and fifty dollars was cheap for her; it also came with the fact that he gave her a simple task to do. Besides, she knew more money would be coming her way soon.  
"So, what kind of comments is he giving you?" she asked out of sheer curiosity, "sexual harassment?" She snorted.

Nick looked around to make sure nobody was watching. "He makes threats and says he might be with Division." He took out his wallet. "Do you take checks?"

"Threats, huh? Yeah, that could be a problem" she stated obviously and opened up her laptop. Her eyes flickered to him when he had asked if she took checks and sighed, "Sure, if you got nothing else" Cash was most preferable, but money was money, right?  
She was on her way to getting the guy, but then remembered what Alex had said. Inside, she let out an exasperated sigh. It was a shame. Nick seemed like a nice guy. Pressing enter again, she looked at him. "Found him," she said within seconds.

"Really? Great. What's his name?"

She closed the laptop and looked up at him and stood up, "Down the street" this was a down right easy, she had thought in her head. Kicking the chair in, she took a last sip of her coffee and started to walk to the door, her laptop tucked under her arm. "Well, you coming?"

"Sure." Nick picked up the few things he had taken with him and stood up to follow her.

---

**movernicole writes:**

I am currently definitely lost. My phone totally crashed and I haven't been able to charge it since I am always on the move. Constantly. Division now knows that we are here, meaning us rogues. I am still deciding whether I should really join Nick and Cassie's team or not, though I would love to. Yet I may be the problem for both and can endanger their lives.  
You see I am a highly skilled mover, yet one thing about me is something I need to work on. I can't be caught off guard by a psychic, or else you will be thrown how many feet away from me. It's just an instinct really, an instinct I can't control. But of course it has its benefits!  
Lately I have been roaming around London deciding whether or not I should join them. I have only decided to meet them and tell them I am highly interested. Yet without a working phone... I am currently lost. Wandering around London.  
For now I guess I will stay low for a while. I am hoping I don't meet anyone that is a member of Division, because I don't want to be the one to beat them up. Or if they are in a huge group, I don't want to get caught!

---


End file.
